A Shieldmaiden's Tale
by Two Guns Lara
Summary: A retelling of the Lord of the Rings, from Eowyn's point of view and with her in a much larger role. Events may change. Destiny cannot.
1. The Dreams

This fanfic will retell the story of Lord of the Rings, giving Eowyn a much larger role. Some caveat emptors:

Eowyn will join the Fellowship as a 10th Walker.

The fic will incorporate elements from both the books and the movies.

Eowyn may engage in actions that seem surprising, even shocking, but she will stay in character based on what is known of her personality, fears, and dreams.

Some events will change (though destiny cannot).

lllll

She was looking down upon Edoras, her home. A black swarm surrounded it like ants, covering the town in darkness. As her view grew closer, she saw that they were not ants, but orcs. The Golden Hall burst into flames. Screams sounded from every direction.

Then, suddenly, a pale light appeared in the western sky. The light moved, shining over Edoras, and she could somehow sense that it was cool and refreshing. A voice began speaking in a strange tongue. The fire was suddenly put out. As the light grew brighter, the orcs seemed to melt away...

lllll

Eowyn sat up straight in her bed. Looking out the window, she judged that it was around midnight from the position of the stars. She looked around, seeing all the familiar items in her room, and let her heart rate slowly return to normal.

She slipped out into the hall and turned the corner. Through the crack underneath the door, she could see a faint light still on in her cousin's room. She knocked softly. "Theodred, it's me," she whispered.

"Come in, Eowyn," he whispered back. She entered, closing the door behind her. With her uncle, Theoden, King of Rohan, seemingly growing colder and more distant each day, as if he were under some sort of spell, Theodred had become her closest confidant. He understood her, in the way that her well-meaning but overprotective brother, Eomer, could not. He understood in the way that King Theoden used to, before the unknown darkness crept into him.

Theodred looked into her eyes and immediately knew. "You had one of those dreams again."

"Yes." She recounted the dream to her cousin, then said, "I must do something!"

"Eowyn, you shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what? For months I've done nothing but roam these halls as a sickness spreads across my country. At least you and Eomer are doing something! My brother is out slaying orcs right now, and you will lead your own patrol out in three days. These dreams...they must be a sign! It cannot be my destiny to wither away in a cage, to do nothing more than stand on the steps of the Golden Hall, watching and waiting for the patrols to come back. To count the riderless horses each time, to count the number of newly made widows and fatherless children. It cannot be!"

"Eowyn, you are a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. Your destiny is not in a cage. When your time comes, you will know it."

"But the dreams! It must be! It must be time."

"What would you do, then? Have your dreams told you? How can you be sure?"

"Always they have pointed me to the West. Light, a presence of magic, voices speaking in a strange tongue. I believe they are Elvish. I must go and seek Lord Elrond of Rivendell. All the answers I seek, I feel lie with him."

"The elves?" Theodred wrinkled his nose. Like most Men of Rohan, he mistrusted the elves, believing they had their own agenda, one that did not have Rohan's best interests at heart. "And what help could Lord Elrond give us?"

"I know little of him, but I know that he is wise and powerful beyond anything in our kingdom. Perhaps he knows of a way to cleanse Theoden of what foul spell has befallen him. Who else can we turn to? Our king grows weaker each day, orcs are raiding closer and closer to the heart of our nation, and there are whispers that the wild men of the hills have joined with the orcs against us. Gondor has drifted apart from us, and they have their own wars to fight against their enemies in the East. And Saruman has betrayed us. You and I both know that there could not be so many orc raids from the direction of Isengard unless he has allowed it."

Theodred was silent for a moment, knowing that her words about Saruman were true. If only the king could recognize it as well...

"I do not expect Lord Elrond to send legions of Elven warriors to defend our homeland. But there is something in Rivendell that is calling me. I feel it. I know it. I must go," Eowyn continued.

Theodred remained in silent contemplation for several moments longer. When he finally spoke, he looked straight into her eyes. "Just remember, Eowyn, that not all who have the power to influence dreams are friendly."

She nodded, swallowing hard. She felt uncertainty begin flowing through her.

"Do you still wish to go?"

She thought hard, weighing one side against the other. She waited for her intuition to give her the answer. An answer that she knew could only be a guess, one way or the other. She would just have to trust that it was right.

"Yes. I feel it. This is what I was meant to do."

"Then I will not stop you. But there are many who would try. If you wish to go, then I would advise leaving before dawn. Pack quickly and travel as lightly as possible. Let no one else know, not even the king. I fear that Grima Wormtongue has gained control of his mind. You cannot let him stop you. Every hour you wait gives that slimy spy more chance to discover what you are planning."

She nodded. "I will gather what I need, then meet you at the stables in half an hour."

lllll

Eowyn hurried down the dark corridor, a full sack over each of her shoulders. She quickened her pace as she rounded a corner. The side exit that led directly to the stables was just ahead.

The harsh whisper startled her. "Elrond cannot help you."

She whirled, speaking his name before even seeing him. "Grima. Is it not enough that you stalk me? You must eavesdrop as well?"

"Ah, Eowyn." He moved closer. "Always waiting. Always seeking, never finding. So trapped, so alone. But you don't have to be." A greasy, oily smile appeared on his ugly face.

She glared at him with disgust. "You will never get what you want out of me."

He continued to advance. "You cannot escape me," he hissed.

She stood her ground defiantly. I will not show fear towards this worm, she told herself. Aloud, she growled, "I dare you to try taking me by force." She clenched her fists, causing the muscles in her slender but well-developed forearms to ripple.

He stopped. She knew that she could defeat him in any contest of physical strength, and she knew that he knew it too. She savored the look of uncertainty on his face. After poisoning the king's mind and spreading fear among the citizens of Rohan, the tables were turned on Wormtongue, if only for a moment.

He stepped back, but snarled at her. "Rohan will be mine, sooner or later. One way or another. And so will you." With that, he vanished into the shadows.

Her heart still pounding, Eowyn made her way to the stables, constantly checking over her shoulder. She met Theodred near the entrance. He already had Windfola, a gray stallion, saddled and ready to go. Windfola was a large horse, bred for war and not for comfortable travel, but because of the long journey she needed a mount that could bear the weight of the provisions she would have to take.

Theodred saw the look in her eyes. "Let me guess. Grima?"

"Who else?"

"Why, that slimy little..."

"It's all right. I put the fear into that greasy worm." She gave a faint smile and Theodred smiled back. "Make sure that you or Eomer is around to protect the king at all times," she continued. Wormtongue had a small band of followers, petty thieves who had been punished by King Theoden with hard labor, and who were now willing to follow Grima in the name of revenge. Though few in number, Wormtongue's hold over the king made them dangerous.

"Do not worry about us. We will protect our lord and land, whether it be from orcs or worms," said Theodred. "You must focus on your mission."

She nodded, placing her things into the saddlebags. He looked through them. "This little food? I know you must travel light, but you don't know how long the journey will take."

Eowyn held up a small crossbow. "I can hunt for small game with this. I'll be all right. And I know what plants I can eat in the wild."

He gave her a tight hug. "Be safe. Remember, better to return without help than send help and not return."

"You stay safe too, and watch over Theoden. I only wish I could say goodbye to him and Eomer."

"Your brother will be angry when he finds you gone," Theodred reminded her.

"I know. It's a price I'll have to pay." She mounted the horse. "Goodbye, Theodred."

"Goodbye, Eowyn."

She rode off into the darkness, glancing back only once. Seeing her cousin standing there watching her go, she was reminded of all the times she had stood on the steps of the Golden Hall, watching him or Eomer ride off into the distance, wondering if they would return. She knew what he was going through, but she also knew that this was something she had to do.

Though she owned a set of armor, one that had originally belonged to a shieldmaiden of many generations ago, she wore no armor now, as Windfola's burden was already heavy with supplies. In addition to her crossbow, she had her sword and a small, round shield, decorated with a rearing white horse. She patted Windfola's neck. "Do not worry. Your burden will become lighter soon."

She rode west for the Gap of Rohan, adding an extra day or two to her journey by making sure to stay as far from Isengard as possible. She kept a sharp lookout for orcs, and when she camped at night she relied on Windfola as a watch-horse to alert her to any danger. No enemies appeared, however. It was just her, the horse, and the endless wind whistling across the barren plains. Despite the loneliness and missing her family, she took a certain feeling of comfort and satisfaction from the journey. She was free out here, free from Wormtongue, free from Saruman, free from the cage. And she was doing something to help her people, even if she didn't know yet exactly where her ultimate destiny lay.

lllll

King Theoden and a small band of horsemen were surrounded by a huge horde of orcs, hopelessly outnumbered, making a heroic last stand. Suddenly, Eowyn saw a rider leading a massive army of Rohirrim. The rescuers crashed into the orcs, trampling them underneath their horses' hooves. The leader slew orcs left and right, sending decapitated heads flying everywhere.

The leader turned, and Eowyn found herself looking into her own face. The warrior-Eowyn let out a shrill battle cry, raising her sword, soaked black with orc blood. A glint of gold was reflected from her finger. The strange voices began speaking again...

lllll

Eowyn sat up straight, looking around. The stars were bright above her, and Windfola was peacefully munching on some grass. All was quiet.

She ran a finger through her long blonde hair. The dreams seemed to be getting more intense, more vivid each time. She hoped she would find answers in Rivendell.

It was autumn, and the nights grew colder underneath the single blanket she had brought as she turned the Gap of Rohan and began traveling northward, west of the Misty Mountains. Though she stayed far enough away that she didn't see the tower of Isengard, at night she saw a faint glow in the distance, as if a massive amount of fires were burning to be visible from so far away. She felt a sense of relief when she had traveled far enough north that she no longer saw the flickers of orange in the night.

As the weeks passed by and her food supply dwindled, Eowyn began hunting with her crossbow to supplement her meager stores. She avoided straying far from her chosen path, and made sure not to take too much time off from traveling. Game was scarce, and she considered herself lucky the few times she managed to catch rabbits. Mostly she caught squirrels, which did not taste very good. She also gathered wild berries and fruit when she found them.

It was after a journey of thirty-seven days that she found the path leading into Rivendell's valley, after a few false starts. As she saw the distinctive Elven architecture in the distance and heard the sound of a waterfall, curiosity mixed with apprehension filled her mind. She had never met Elves, save for a few ambassadors to her uncle's court, and wondered what they would be like. Would she find answers here? Or only more questions?


	2. The Council of Elrond

As the path into Rivendell became steeper and narrower, Eowyn dismounted Windfola and led him along the trail. She could now see the waterfalls, and the flow of water seemed almost mesmerizing. She passed by a few Elves here and there, none of whom seemed to take special notice of her, and wondered if they were used to receiving visitors.

Soon the path intersected with another, and she saw a beautiful female Elf with long dark brown hair leading a magnificent white horse on the other trail. Eowyn paused to admire the creature (the horse, not the elf). The elf must have sensed her gaze, for she turned and smiled.

"He is a beautiful horse," said Eowyn. "Yours?"

The female elf laughed. "Oh, no! Asfaloth is a great war horse, and he was ridden by Glorfindel, a mighty Elven lord. My own mount is much more plain. I'm just taking Asfaloth back to the stable. He has had quite an adventure these past few days."

Eowyn was about to inquire of these adventures, but then, realizing she had not introduced herself, instead spoke briefly of her background and her journey from Rohan to see Lord Elrond. "Where would I find him?"

"Ah, my father. You are not the first visitor from a distant land who has come to see him."

"Your father?!"

"Yes. Forgive me, for I have not introduced myself either. I am Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond."

Eowyn stood a little straighter. "Then it is good to meet you at last, my Lady." She vaguely remembered something of her from reading about the history of the Elves in one of her uncle's books. The book had not overstated her beauty, she thought as she looked more closely at the elf.

Behind her, Windfola let out a neigh. "Come with me," said Arwen. "I will find a place for your horse next to Asfaloth, then we can find a place for you to rest as well. You must be tired after your long journey. When you have recovered your strength, you will see my father."

"Thank you, my Lady."

lllll

Eowyn stood in the morning light, admiring the view of Rivendell's valley. The greenery and the waterfalls were a view that she could not get from the rolling plains and hills of Rohan, as much as she loved them, and to the east rose the snow-capped Misty Mountains. Everything was peaceful, and she felt a lot better after having changed out of her dirty riding-breeches and into a simple but elegant green dress. Shieldmaiden she may be, but she still preferred to dress like a proper lady. She felt refreshed in every way but one - the fear and darkness that still lingered in her heart because of the uncertainty of the future.

Heavy footsteps shook her out of her thoughts. She saw a tall, dark-haired man with a fair and noble face, walking slowly in her direction. His expression as he looked around the valley was one of wonder and curiosity, as if he had arrived here recently for the first time. His garments were rich, but worn and stained with the marks of a long and harsh journey. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn't yet place it.

"My Lady," he said as he approached. "I sense that you, too, are a stranger to this place. I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Lord and Steward of Gondor."

Boromir! She remembered him now. He and his father and brother had visited Theoden's court many years ago, when she had been just a little girl. She recalled Denethor as a grim-faced but noble man, strained from years of constant warfare, and the younger brother, what was his name...Faramir, yes that was it...as a somewhat awkward teenager. The Boromir she remembered had been the same proud warrior, though far more carefree than the man she was looking at now.

"Lord Boromir. It has been many years, but I do remember you. I am Eowyn of Rohan."

A look of surprise appeared in his grey eyes. "Lady Eowyn?! Not the little girl running around with a wooden sword! All grown up now. It has been too many years indeed. Long have I wished that the alliance between Gondor and Rohan was as strong as in the years of old, that our leaders saw one another more often."

She smiled wistfully at the memory. "Those were happier times. But what brings you here, on such a long journey from home?"

"My brother, Faramir, and I both had dreams that called us here to Imladris, to Rivendell. He wished to come here with all haste, but because of the danger of the journey, I took it upon myself." He looked directly into her eyes. "And what about you, Lady Eowyn? What would bring you here, alone, so far from the land of the Horse-Lords?"

"I, too have been blessed, or cursed, depending on how you want to look at it, with dreams," said Eowyn. "It seems that a greater force is at work here. My dreams, too, have pointed me to this place. My uncle, the King, is as if he has fallen under some evil spell, and my brother and my cousin must devote all their strength to fighting off the never-ending raids of orcs. I felt it was left to me to make this long journey." She looked more closely at the wear and stains on his cloak. "How many days have you traveled?"

"One hundred and ten, my Lady."

"One hundred and ten? And I thought traveling for thirty-seven days was tiring. Gondor isn't that much further away than Rohan...is it?"

"I lost my horse on the way," Boromir explained. Eowyn nodded, trying to imagine what it would be like to lose Windfola.

A single, clear bell suddenly rang out. "That is the signal for the Council of Elrond, or so I have heard," said Boromir. "I think both of us will want to be there."

They made their way together to a porch on the side of a large house. Lord Elrond, a tall, dark-haired elf with a circlet of silver upon his head, stood in front of a group that included elves, men, and a pair of dwarves. The wizard Gandalf, who had visited King Theoden a few times over the years, was present as well, and a rough-looking, unshaven man sat alone in a corner, apart from the others. Finally, there were three Halflings, or hobbits, small creatures that Eowyn had only read about in books until seeing them today. Elrond introduced the oldest Halfling as Bilbo Baggins and one of the younger hobbits as his cousin, Frodo Baggins. He made no mention of the third hobbit, a rather heavy-set fellow who was partially hidden by shadow in a corner. The Elf-Lord then introduced Boromir and Eowyn to the rest of the group. Though it was a beautiful autumn morning, and the birds were singing, all the faces present were grim.

The older dwarf spoke first, introducing himself as Gloin and his companion as his son Gimli. Gloin spoke of his cousin Balin, who had led a party of dwarves into the mines of Moria, successfully reclaiming them for a while, but who had not been heard from for several years. He also told of the dwarves in the kingdom of the Lonely Mountain in the East being visited by a dark messenger of Sauron, who wanted information about "the least of rings," and was willing to give in return the three Dwarven Rings of Power that Sauron held, along with eternal dominion over Moria. "Rather than give him information," Gloin finished, "I have come here to warn you of Sauron's desire, and to ask for counsel."

"You did well to come here," said Elrond. "For all of you will hear today why this ring, the 'least of rings', is tied to the fate of us all. You have all come to me, strangely in the very nick of time, though I did not call you. By chance it may seem, but it is not so. For a great force is at work here, a force that has ordained that we who sit here must now find counsel for the peril of the world."

Elrond then told the whole tale of Sauron and the Rings of Power. Many, including Eowyn, knew some of the tale, but few knew it all. He told of the Three Rings for the Elves, and the Seven for the Dwarves, and the Nine for the Men, and finally the One, the One Ring that Sauron had forged to rule all the others, this "least of rings" that Sauron was now trying desperately to recover. Elrond spoke of the end of the Second Age, when the Last Alliance of Men and Elves marched on Mordor and defeated Sauron, though the leaders of the Alliance, Gil-galad, King of the Elves, and Elendil, King of Men, fell in battle. "Isildur, son of Elendil, cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand. I bid him cast the ring into the fires of Mount Doom to destroy it, and Sauron's power, once and for all, but he would not listen. He kept it for himself, and it soon betrayed him to his death. Ever since then in the North it has been known as Isildur's Bane," Elrond said solemnly. "After the death of Isildur, the bloodline of the Kings of Men, of Gondor, began a long and slow decline."

Boromir stood up. "With your leave, Master Elrond, I wish to speak more of Gondor, my home. Believe not that its pride and dignity are spent or forgotten. By our valor and our blood is the terror of Mordor kept at bay, and the passages of the Great River open to the West. But it is not of battle that I have journeyed so far to speak. In a dream I saw the eastern sky grow dark, but in the West a pale light lingered, and a voice cried out to me. To seek for the Sword that was broken, and know that the awakening of Isildur's Bane is at hand."

The rough-looking man in the corner stood up, revealing a sword, broken into two pieces. "And here is the Sword that was broken!" he cried. "The blade that Isildur used to cut the ring from Sauron's hand, three thousand years ago. It is here."

"And who are you, and how come you by this sword?" Boromir asked, turning to face him.

"This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn," said Elrond. "Though he may appear just a Ranger of the North, he is Isildur's heir." Boromir, seemingly at a loss for words, stared at Aragorn for a moment, then sat back down.

Gandalf, the grey-robed Wizard, spoke up. "It is time. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

The small hobbit stood, holding the Ring up to the light. It was a simple golden ring, unadorned with any jewels, though it seemed to gleam and flicker in the morning sun. Though she and her mother and aunt had all worn fancier jewelry, Eowyn found her eyes glued to it as she gazed upon the infamous One Ring, Isildur's Bane, for the first time. She remembered her dream, the one where she had been the great warrior princess, and the glint of gold on the princess's finger...

She felt a sudden disappointment as Frodo placed the Ring back underneath his shirt. Looking around, she saw that most eyes were still on the hobbit, but Boromir's face bore an expression strangely similar to hers.

Finally Boromir said, "But how did so strange a messenger come by this Ring, when last it was in the possession of Isildur?"

"That part of the tale is for the Halflings to tell," said Elrond.

The older hobbit, Bilbo, then spoke of his adventure of being hired as a burglar by Gloin and his companions, and of meeting the foul creature Gollum and finding the Ring. Frodo then told his part, of how the Ring had been passed to him, and of all his adventures spanning seventeen years from Bilbo's Party to his pursuit by the Black Riders and his flight on Asfaloth to the Fords of Bruinen just outside the valley. All who were present listened to Frodo's part of the tale very carefully, and many questioned him about various passages. When he was finished, there was a long silence.

Finally, one of the Elves spoke, addressing Lord Elrond. "But what of Saruman? He is learned in the lore of all the Rings, yet he is not among us. Why is he not here?"

Eowyn stood up and spoke for the first time. "Saruman, I fear, is no longer an ally, but an enemy. The peace that once existed on Rohan's frontier with Isengard is no more. Endless raids of orcs now come from that direction, joining with those from Mordor from the East. Our men are hard-pressed to fight them off. And our King, Theoden, grows weaker each day. I fear that Saruman has poisoned his mind."

Murmurs of surprise came from many, and there were looks of disbelief on some faces. "Alas, it is true," said Gandalf. He told of his visit to Isengard, Saruman's desire to acquire the Ring for himself, his imprisonment in the Tower by Saruman, and finally his escape with the aid of one of the Great Eagles.

"It is perilous to study the arts of the Enemy too closely, for good or for ill," said Elrond gravely. "Saruman was deep in our counsel. His betrayal has done great harm to us all."

"And what of this Gollum?" asked Eowyn. "Where is he now?"

"I tracked the foul creature," said Aragorn. "In the Dead Marshes near Mordor, I caught him. He struggled, and I got nothing from his mouth but the marks of his teeth. I turned him over to the Elves of Mirkwood, to keep watch over him, and glad I was to be rid of him. I spoke to him no more, but Gandalf came and talked at length with him."

"Indeed I did," said the wizard. "Gollum was captured by orcs, and taken to Mordor. There he was tormented until he told all he knew, then released to no doubt make further mischief, before Aragorn captured him. Thus the Enemy knows that the One Ring has been found, and that it was long in the Shire, the land of the Halflings. And since his servants have pursued it almost to our door, it will not be long before he knows, if he does not already, that we have it here."

There was a cold silence for a while at those words, until finally Boromir spoke. "And Gollum? What was his fate?"

An Elf, clad differently from the others, jumped up. "Alas! The tidings I was sent to bring must now be told. They are not good, but only now have I learned how evil they may be. The creature Gollum has escaped."

"Escaped, Legolas?" cried Aragorn, turning to face the elf. "That is ill news indeed. How came the Elves of Mirkwood to fail in their trust?"

"Not through lack of watchfulness," said Legolas, "but perhaps through over-kindliness. We feared that the prisoner had aid from others, and we guarded him day and night. But Gandalf bade us hope still for his cure, and we had not the heart to lock him away in a dungeon beneath the earth, where he would fall into his old black thoughts."

"You were less kind to me," growled the Dwarf Gloin, remembering his imprisonment in the Elven-King's dungeons during his adventure with Bilbo and his companions.

"Come now!" said Gandalf. "That regrettable misunderstanding was long ago set right. If all the old grievances between Dwarves and Elves were to be brought up here, we may as well abandon this Council."

Gloin bowed apologetically, and Legolas continued. "There was a high tree that Gollum liked to climb, and we let him go to the highest branches, always keeping guard at the tree's foot. One day, he refused to come down, and the guards had no mind to come after him; he was trapped, or so they thought. So they simply waited by the tree as darkness fell."

"In the night, Orcs attacked us by surprise. We managed to drive them off, but after the fight was over we discovered that Gollum was gone and his guards slain. How Gollum managed to arrange his rescue we still do not know, but he is cunning, and the spies of the Enemy are many. We followed Gollum's trail, but it was mixed with those of many Orcs, and eventually we lost it. Gollum is gone." Legolas shook his head.

"Gone, but not forgotten," said Gandalf. "He may play a part yet that neither he nor Sauron have foreseen. And with that, I think, the full tale is told. Now we must decide what to do with the Ring."

"Do the Elves have the strength to protect it, when Sauron's might comes for it at last?" asked Aragorn. "You, Lord Elrond, here in Imladris, or Galadriel in Lothlorien, or Thranduil in Mirkwood, or Cirdan in the Grey Havens?"

"I have not the strength," said Elrond, "neither have they."

"Then," said Aragorn, "but two choices remain - to send it over the Sea, or to destroy it."

"The Elves who dwell beyond the Sea would not receive it," said Elrond. "For good or ill it belongs to Middle-Earth. It is for us who still dwell here to deal with it."

"If not beyond the Sea, why not into it?" asked Legolas. "Let us throw the Ring into the depths of the ocean, that it may be lost there forever."

"Not forever," said Gandalf. "There are many things in the deep waters, and seas and lands may change. We are not here to take thought for only one generation, or even one Age. We should seek a final end of this menace, even if we do not hope to make one."

"The Ring was forged in the fires of Mount Doom," said Elrond. "Only there can it be unmade. We must send the Ring to te Fire. We must send the Ring to Mordor."

Another silence fell over the Council, until at length Boromir stood and spoke again. "We speak of hiding and destroying, but why not use this Ring? It has come to us, in this hour. Let us use the weapon of the Enemy against him, to lead us to victory!"

"We cannot use it," said Elrond. "It was made by Sauron alone, and is altogether evil. Its strength is too great for anyone to wield at will, save those who are already powerful. But for them it holds an even deadlier peril. The very desire of it corrupts the heart. One who tried to wield it for his own would fall into darkness, no matter how good his intentions were, and soon another Dark Lord would appear. I dare not take the Ring to wield it."

"Neither would I," said Gandalf.

Boromir bowed, but there was still a look of doubt upon his face. Eowyn sympathized with him, knowing that the words of Gandalf and Elrond were wise, but still wondering if they were being too hasty with the decision to simply cast the Ring into Mount Doom. By sending the Ring to Mordor, did that not create a great danger of Sauron recapturing it?

There was a great silence that lasted for a long time, as each member of the Council buried themselves in their own thoughts. The noon-bell rang and still no one spoke. Finally a small voice was heard, that of Frodo the Halfling.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor," he said, "though I do not know the way."

All eyes turned to Frodo. "It is a heavy burden," Elrond said. "So heavy that none can lay it on another. But if you choose to take the Ring willingly, I will say that it is right. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the great."

"But you won't send him off alone, surely?" said the third hobbit, jumping up from his corner, where he had been unseen or forgotten by everyone else.

"No indeed, Master Samwise!" said Elrond with a smile. "You, at least, shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you two, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

"A nice pickle we have landed ourselves in, Mr. Frodo!" said Sam.


	3. The Ring Goes South

The first scouts left that evening, looking for signs of the Black Riders or any other enemies. More left the next morning. They had an important duty, to find the safest path for anyone leaving Rivendell with the Ring. It would be weeks before they returned. Elves and Rangers made up the scouts, divided into several parties, and Aragorn and Legolas went off with one of them.

Eowyn's faithful horse, Windfola, was also sent out with one of the scouting groups that was traveling towards the south. They promised to escort him as far as they would go, then release him to find his way home to Rohan. She knew that the Rohirric horses would not lose their way.

As the visitors waited for the scouts to return, Eowyn found herself unable to enjoy fully the peace and sanctuary of Rivendell, for her heart was worried about her homeland. It would be months before she could return home, if she returned at all. How far had the dark shadow taken King Theoden? Were Eomer and Theodred all right?

She spoke occasionally with the Halflings, although Frodo and Sam said little save to each other, and Bilbo spent most of his time writing in a book. There were two more hobbits in Rivendell, companions of Frodo who had not been invited to the Council. Meriadoc and Peregrin were their names, though to most they were Merry and Pippin. They were younger than Frodo and Sam, though Eowyn was surprised to find that even Pippin, the youngest of the Halflings, was older than she was. Merry and Pippin were more open than their older companions, and she learned a lot about their homeland, the Shire, from them. Although they enjoyed pranks and jokes, she sensed a deeper maturity inside them, particularly in the older one, Merry.

Boromir of Gondor, however, was the one she became closest to during their stay. She found him sitting alone one gray evening, staring out over the darkening valley, and spoke to him. "I sense a heavy burden upon you, Lord Boromir. Though I would not claim to understand what I do not know, I have worries of my own, and perhaps those will help me understand those that you carry."

He looked at her with his grey eyes, with the look of a man who had been holding much inside and longed to let it out. "You speak with insight, Lady Eowyn, and indeed my burden is heavy. Perhaps you will understand, if you fear for your nation as I fear for mine." He sighed. "I have fought in many battles and slain many foes, and seen many of my comrades die. I have watched the Shadow grow in the East. All my life I have prepared to take over the rule of Gondor when my father passes. But now, this Aragorn, Isildur's heir, reappearing after so long...what does he want? Does he desire to usurp my position and rule as King? It was as if a rug was yanked out from underneath me when he spoke at the Council."

"Yes, I owe him my allegiance," Boromir continued. "But where does his allegiance lie? He knows much and speaks little, and spends his time in the wilderness. He appears to take more counsel from Elves and Wizards than from his fellow Men. I do not know where his loyalties are."

Eowyn nodded. "You are right about the rug, for I would feel the same way if that had happened to me. And Aragorn is an enigma; I would rather deal with those who say what they mean and mean what they say."

"And the Ring! Isildur's Bane," said Boromir. "Too hasty I think the others were, in deciding to throw it into the fires of Mount Doom. Was I the only one?"

"Not the only one," Eowyn said. "Not alone. For the Ring has great power, and great potential to help us. To help both our nations, to help all the Free Folk. True, it also has great potential for evil, but they could have at least waited until we got farther along in our journey to make a final decision. It is not one that should be made lightly, nor swiftly." She brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her face. "But if destroying it is the will of the Council, it is our duty to see it done."

"True. And I suppose Elrond and Gandalf know best..." Boromir's voice trailed off.

They then turned to speak of other things, and talked long into the night, each telling the other about their homelands. Many an evening they would spend together, sometimes looking west over the valley, sometimes east to the mountains, talking as the stars came out. Eowyn found herself gaining a strong admiration and respect for him. Being a stranger in a strange land, it was nice to have someone that she could trust and confide in. Boromir reminded her of Theodred back home.

Autumn was ending when the scouts began to return. They had found no trace of enemies nearby, nor any trace of Gollum. The Black Riders' horses were found drowned in the river, but of the Riders themselves there was no sign save a tattered black cloak. It could only be assumed that the Riders had been forced to return to Mordor on foot, opening a chance for escape when they would be unable to pursue.

Elrond summoned all his visitors to him. "The time has come," he proclaimed. "The Ring-bearer stands against the Dark Lord of Mordor. As the Dark Lord has nine Riders to serve him, so shall the Ring-bearer have nine Walkers to protect and stand with him. Your hope lies in secrecy, not in force, so no great host shall accompany you. With you, Frodo, and your faithful companion Sam, Gandalf the Grey will go, for this shall be his great task."

"The others will represent the other Free Folk of Middle-Earth: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Legolas shall go for the Elves, and Gimli son of Gloin for the Dwarves. For Men you shall have Aragorn son of Arathorn, for Isildur's Bane concerns him closely. As the road home for Boromir and Eowyn lies on the same path as yours for many hundreds of miles, they too shall accompany you. Then there remain two more to be found. Members of my house, perhaps..."

"We're coming, too!" shouted Merry suddenly, appearing from out of nowhere and interrupting the Elf-lord.

"You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us," added Pippin, who had appeared next to Merry. "At any rate, you need people of intelligence on this mission...quest...thing."

"Well, that rules you out, Pip," snickered Merry.

Elrond sighed. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Great," said Pippin. "So...where are we going?"

lllll

The Fellowship made ready to depart on a cold, gray, and windy December day. All had been furnished by Elrond with thick, warm clothes. Spare food and other gear were loaded on a pony named Bill that Sam had charge of.

The broken Sword of Elendil had been reforged by Elven smiths, and Aragorn took it and renamed it Anduril, Flame of the West. In addition to Anduril he carried a dagger at his side and a short bow upon his back. Legolas had a long bow and a pair of knives. Boromir had his great sword, and bore a large round shield upon his back.

Gimli alone among the Fellowship openly wore armor, a shirt of chain-mail, for the journey would be long and harsh, but dwarves make light of burdens. He carried a large axe over his shouler, with a smaller axe tucked into his belt. The Halflings each carried a short sword. Frodo's sword was called Sting, and it was a magical Elvish blade that glowed blue when orcs were near. Gandalf also had an Elvish blade, the sword Glamdring, which he carried in addition to his staff. Eowyn bore her small round shield upon her back, with her sword at her right side and her little hunting-crossbow at her left.

"This is my last word," announced Elrond. "The Ring-bearer is setting out on the quest of Mount Doom. On him alone any charge is laid, to neither cast away the Ring nor to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy. On his companions no oath or bond is laid to go any farther than you will. Farewell, and may the blessings of Elves, Men, and all the Free Folk go with you."

"The Fellowship awaits the Ringbearer," said Gandalf.

Frodo stepped forward, moving slowly along the path and through an open gate. The path split, and he whispered, "Mordor, Gandalf. Is it left or right?"

"Left," Gandalf whispered back.

"Good luck!" cried Bilbo, who had come out to see them off. "Don't be too long, Frodo my lad. Farewell!"

The Fellowship crossed the bridge over the foaming river and made their way up the steep paths that led out of Rivendell's valley. At a high moor where the wind whistled through the bare branches, they had their last glimpse of Rivendell. Eowyn glanced back at the twinkling lights of the Elven stronghold, then turned away for the last time.

They walked in single file, with Gandalf leading the way, and Aragorn right behind him. Then came Gimli, and then the hobbits, with Sam leading Bill the pony. Eowyn and Boromir were next, and Legolas, with his elven eyes, was the rearguard. For two weeks they moved southward through hilly country, and the weather was cold and cloudy, with the wind constantly howling over the barren moors. Each day the land looked much the same as it had the day before. Yet slowly the Misty Mountains were drawing nearer, for south of Rivendell they rose ever higher, and bent westwards.

They slept during the day, to hide themselves from Sauron's many spies, with one awake at all times for a watch. In the late afternoon they awoke, and took their chief meal, usually cold and cheerless, for the risk of a bright light was such that the lighting of a fire was a rare treat. The Halflings likely suffered the most from this, as Pippin had duly informed the others of the hobbits' seven traditional daily meals - breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, afteroon tea, dinner, and supper - but none of them grumbled. With Gandalf's magic, Legolas' elven eyes, and Aragorn's knowledge of this land even in the dark, they were able to travel in the dark of night without too much difficulty.

After two weeks the weather suddenly changed. The wind died away and the sun came out, although it remained cold. Trees finally appeared on the hills, and Gandalf proclaimed that they had arrived on the edge of a country called Hollin, or Eregion by the Elves. "Many Elves lived here in happier days, though those are long gone and this country is long abandoned," said the wizard.

They made camp that day in a deep hollow shrouded by great bushes of holly, and for the first time in many days lit a fire. With the hot meal and the appearance of the sun, the mood was lighter than it had been for a long time. Boromir was instructing Merry and Pippin on how to use a sword, while Sam and Frodo knelt by the fire. Aragorn and Legolas stood at opposite ends of the camp, keeping watchful eyes on the sky.

"Far we have traveled, but much farther we still have to go," said Gandalf, smoking his pipe and gazing off into the wilderness. "If we are lucky, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us."

"It was still open when I came through on the way north to Rivendell," said Eowyn. "When we reach the borders of Rohan the Riders will be ready to protect us."

"Much has changed in the months since you came," said Gandalf somberly. "Saruman's power has grown, and orcs and evil Men now roam where none did before." Eowyn shivered at those words, and felt a burning desire to get back to her country and do everything she could to protect it.

"If anyone was asking my opinion, and I know they're not," Gimli spoke up, "I'd say we were taking the long way around. We could go through the mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome."

A strange look appeared in Gandalf's eyes, one that Eowyn had never seen before. It was a look of fear and uncertainty, as if the mighty wizard was thinking of some evil more powerful than himself. "No, Gimli," he said finally. "I would not pass through the mines unless I had no other choice."

Legolas' eyes suddenly focused on a dark shape in the sky. "Look!" He stared at it intently as it grew larger and closer.

"What's that?" asked Sam, looking up from the fire and frowning.

"Nothing, it's just a whiff of cloud," said Gimli.

Boromir lowered his sword. "It's moving fast, and against the wind."

"Crebain from Dunland!" shouted Legolas as he recognized the threat. "Hide!"

They all quickly hid underneath the thick bushes, Sam throwing dirt on the fire. A large flock of evil-looking black crows flew over them, cawing loudly.

When the birds had passed, Gandalf stood up. "Spies of Saruman," he growled. "The path south is watched." He pointed to the snow-covered mountains in the east. "We must take the pass of Cahadras!"


	4. Over and Under the Mountain

It was a harsh path up the mountain. Soon they were walking in snow, which steadily became deeper and deeper. "This is not right," said Gandalf, shaking his head. "We are far to the south and not yet very high up. Here, the passage is usually open and free of snow all the winter."

Frodo suddenly slipped and fell, tumbling backward several feet in the snow. Sam hurried over to him. "Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?"

"Yes, I'm fine..." Frodo's hand suddenly went to his neck. "The Ring! It's not here..."

There was a glint of gold, and all eyes turned to Boromir, who had picked up the fallen Ring. He held it up, gazing upon it as if mesmerized. "How strange, that we should all suffer so much for such a small thing..."

"Boromir!" called Aragorn sharply.

As if snapped out of a trance, Boromir looked up. "Give the Ring to Frodo," said Aragorn.

"Of course," said Boromir. He handed the Ring back to Frodo, who quickly put it around his neck and covered it with his shirt. "It is nothing, nothing..." Boromir trailed off, then started upward through the snow again.

Eowyn noticed that Aragorn's hand subtly had been on his sword while he had been talking to Boromir. She looked at the Ranger. "Was that really necessary?"

He looked back at her, but said nothing. She continued. "We all swore an oath to protect Frodo. We should trust one another, not look at one another with suspicion and fear."

But Aragorn still did not speak, instead only turning to follow the others up the mountain.

The going got rougher as they went higher. Only Legolas was unaffected, for as an Elf he could walk on top of the snow. He walked ahead of the rest, turning around suddenly. "There is a foul voice on the air!"

"Saruman!" cried Gandalf.

There was a sharp sound like a bolt of lightning striking something, then a rumble. An avalanche of snow tumbled down on the Fellowship. With loud yells they shook the snow off of them.

"We must get off the mountain!" shouted Boromir. "The snow will be the death of the Halflings! Let us make for the Gap of Rohan!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn countered.

"If there are Orcs, we can better deal with them than we can deal with this!" said Eowyn.

"If we cannot pass over the Mountain, then let us go under it!" urged Gimli. "Let us go through the mines of Moria."

Gandalf's eyes narrowed with worry. Finally he said, "Let the Ring-bearer decide."

Frodo looked at his companions' faces, then at the seemingly endless snow. "We will go through the mines," he said in a voice that was barely audible over the howl of the wind.

"So be it," said Gandalf, letting out a sigh.

They made their way down the mountain as quickly as they could without losing caution. When they reached the bottom of the slope, a great avalance of snow and rock suddenly tumbled down behind them, blocking the mountain pass. One path was closed for good.

lllll

Several more days of travel brought the Fellowship to a great stone wall. A narrow path ran parallel to it, and on the other side of the trail was a dark, still, foul-looking pool of water. "These are the walls of Moria," proclaimed Gandalf.

The wall appeared at first to be a blank face of stone, but as the moon shone upon it, the glowing outline of a set of ancient Dwarf-doors was revealed. Lettering in a strange tongue glittered on the door. Gandalf read the message aloud, translating it. "The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter."

"What do you suppose that means?" asked Merry.

"Oh, it's quite simple, really," said the wizard. "If you are a friend, speak the password, and the doors will open." He raised his staff and pointed it at the doors, chanting in ancient Elvish. But nothing happened.

Gandalf tried another chant. Still nothing.

"What are you going to do now?" asked Pippin.

"Knock on the doors with your head, Peregrin Took," said Gandalf. "But if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will seek for the opening words." Pippin hung his head and slunk away, standing back next to Merry.

Gandalf tried phrase after phrase in various languages at the doors, none of which opened them. Frodo, Legolas, and Gimli watched the wizard closely. Eowyn, suddenly feeling tired, leaned her head against Boromir's, who was sitting next to her.

Sam and Aragorn removed the gear from the back of Bill the pony. "The mines are no place for a pony, even one so brave as Bill," said Aragorn, slapping the horse on the rump. Sam, a regretful expression on his face, watched the animal go. "Don't worry," Aragorn assured him. "He knows the way out."

Merry hurled a stone into the water, creating a loud splash. Pippin picked up a stone of his own and was about to throw it as well when Aragorn suddenly grabbed his arm. "Do not disturb the water."

Gandalf suddenly stood up straight. The weary expression was gone from his face, and he was actually laughing. "Of course, of course!" he said. "I have it now." Raising his staff, he stood before the stone doors and said in a clear voice, "Mellon!"

With a loud creak, the massive doors divided and swung outwards. The moonlight revealed a staircase inside, climbing steeply upward, but beyond that was total darkness. The members of the Fellowship all stood up and stared in wonder.

"The password was inscribed on the doors all along!" chuckled Gandalf. "I only had to speak the Elvish word for 'friend', and the doors would open. Too simple, like most riddles seem when you solve them. Now come! We must hurry."

Led by Gandalf, they entered cautiously, one by one. "Soon, Master Elf," said Gimli to Legolas, "you shall enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine. A mine!"

Eowyn stepped on something that made a strange crunching sound. Gandalf lit the end of his staff, revealing that all around the bottom of the staircase were strewn the corpses of dwarves and orcs. Looking down, Eowyn saw that she had stepped on the remnants of an orc-skeleton.

"This is no mine," said Boromir. "It's a tomb!"

Gimli bent over one of the dwarven skeletons. "Nooooo!"

Legolas examined a black-feathered arrow embedded in another dwarven skull. "Goblins!"

"We make for the Gap of Rohan," said Boromir. "We should never have come here!"

The hobbits, who had been in the rear, were the first to stumble for the exit. Suddenly, Frodo seemed to slip and fall with a cry. A long, slimy tentacle had grasped him by the ankle. Sam slashed at it with his sword, yelling for Aragorn.

The tentacle released Frodo, and Sam began pulling him away, but twenty more tentacles came rippling out. The water seemed to boil, and there was a hideous stench. One tentacle struck Sam in the face and knocked him down. Another slimy arm seized Frodo around the waist and lifted him high into the air. As the water continued to rage, a gigantic, savage-looking head with many sharp teeth rose out of the depths, the mouth opening wide. Aragorn and Boromir charged forward, swinging their swords, and two tentacles came flying off. Legolas fired an arrow, striking another arm and sending it back into the pool.

Eowyn, trying to control her shock and fear at this sudden turn of events, dashed forward next to Boromir and swung her sword at the nearest tentacle, hacking it off. Aragorn, moving to position himself, sliced off the slimy arm that held Frodo. The hobbit fell with a cry, but Boromir caught him safely. "Into the mines!" shouted Gandalf.

Legolas fired an arrow into one of the monster's eyes. It let out a shriek of pain, but kept coming. The writhing tentacles of the creature brought down great piles of stone behind the Fellowship, blocking the door and trapping them inside. As the sounds outside faded, they were left with nothing but heavy breathing and pitch blackness.

"We now have but one choice," came the voice of Gandalf. "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world." He lit the end of his staff, providing just enough light for them to make their way. "It is a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

lllll

Gandalf, with his dimly lit staff, led the way up the winding stairs, with Gimli right behind him. Two hundred steps they counted before they reached the top, where an arched passage with a level floor disappeared off into the darkness. At Frodo's urging, they stopped there for a quick meal before continuing on. All seemed silent, and no blue glow came from the Elvish blades Sting and Glamdring, but that was a small comfort, as there was still a long blackness ahead.

From the faint light, Eowyn could see glimpses of side passages, and stairs and tunnels, leading off to places unknown. Sometimes she felt as if a monster would leap out from one dark tunnel or another, and she patted the hilt of her sword frequently. Sometimes at the division of the path, Gandalf would consult Gimli about which way to go, but it was always the wizard who had the final say. Gandalf seemed fairly confident that there was a path all the way through, but there was something else in his eyes. A fear, a fear of something unknown.

Eventually, they came to a series of ledges, with ladders and abandoned mining equipment strewn around. Gandalf pointed his staff at a shiny gleam in a wall of rock. "The wealth of Moria lay not in gold or jewels, but in mithril," he proclaimed softly. "Bilbo, in fact, had a shirt of mithril armor as a present from the dwarf Thorin Oakenshield."

"That was a kingly gift!" Gimli exclaimed.

"Indeed it was," said the wizard. "I never told Bilbo, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire." At that, Frodo's eyes suddenly widened.

"I wonder where it is now," Gandalf continued. "Oh well."

They went on for several more hours before stopping to make camp, though there was no sign of night or day. They took watch in turns while the others slept, though none save perhaps Gimli appeared to sleep well. If the first day seemed bad, the next was worse, and their tramping through the dark passages seemed endless.

The only thing that broke the monotony was a sharp whisper from Frodo to Gandalf, saying that he thought someone - or something - was following them. "Gollum," whispered Gandalf. "He is feeling the call of the Ring." Eowyn listened carefully whenever the Company stopped for a brief rest, but was never able to detect the footsteps of the foul creature. Perhaps Frodo's senses were sharpened by the Ring.

Finally, they came to a wide dark arch that opened into three passages, all leading eastwards, but the left passage plunged down, while the right climbed up, and the middle way seemed to run on, smooth and level but very narrow. Gandalf paused underneath the arch. "I know not which way to go, and we have been walking for over twelve hours. Let us rest here, and perhaps my mind will be sharper when I wake."

The others took to this suggestion gratefully, for all were weary, and Merry found a half-open stone door leading off to the side. It swung open the rest of the way with a creak, and the light from Gandalf's staff revealed a side-room of modest size. Glad to find a place more protected than the open passageways, they enetered eagerly, and quicky rolled out their blankets. Soon all were asleep except Aragorn, who had the first watch.

lllll

Eowyn sat upon a great throne, a crown of gold, adorned with jewels, upon her head, and a long sword at her side. Before her stood a line of ambassadors, not just Men, but Dwarves and even Elves as well, all bearing gifts. She rose from the throne.

"Visitors from many nations! I thank you for your tribute," she cried. "Evil is forever vanquished, and all the forces of Light stand united in a grand alliance. Let us now give a toast to victory, and to eternal peace and prosperity!" She raised her right arm, and as she lowered it she saw the One Ring, shining brightly on her finger.

"All hail Queen Eowyn!" came the chant from the assembled throng. "Eowyn! Eowyn! Eowyn!"

"Eowyn?" Something was shaking her. She opened her eyes and saw that it was Boromir. "It's your turn to take watch."

"Urrrghhh." She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "I was having such a wonderful dream, about Sauron being defeated, and peace all across the land, and the R..." She stopped suddenly.

"The Ring?" asked Boromir. "It is all right. I have dreamt about the Ring as well," he whispered, after looking around and making sure that all the others were asleep.

He told her of his dreams, and she told him of hers, and they whispered at length in the darkness. "Gondor and Rohan. Strong enough to defeat the Enemy once and for all and end the state of endless war," whispered Boromir. "Is that so bad a wish that we must only speak of it in hushed tones?"

"And to never again have to watch our husbands and brothers ride off to battle, wondering if they will return," Eowyn added. "These dreams - what are they? Are they the evil call of the Ring, trying to poison us? But if they are, what are the dreams that brought us both to Rivendell, with good fortune in the nick of time? Who can tell?"

"There are no easy answers," whispered Boromir. "I do not understand how the others can be so sure. It may well be that the best course is to throw the Ring into Mount Doom after all. But the decision was made too hastily, without consulting the opinions of all. What if Sauron intercepts the Ring in Mordor, and takes it back? Will this be the greatest regret for us all?"

"I wish they would listen," Eowyn agreed. "We are young, true. But we can see things differently than they can. Just let our voices be heard, that is all I would ask."

They talked together for a while longer, until Eowyn finally persuaded Boromir to get some sleep. Left awake alone, she paced back and forth around the room, eyes never leaving the doorway. When she paused, sometimes she thought she could hear something very faint in the distance, as if Gollum was there, pacing around for reasons of his own. Finally, when it was time, she awakened Legolas for his turn at watch. It was a long time before she fell asleep again.

In the morning, or whatever time it was in the eternal darkness, Gandalf had made his decision. "I do not like the smell of the left-hand passage, there is foul air down there. And I do not like the feel of the middle, it is too narrow. We will take the right-hand passage, it is time we began to climb up again."

For ten hours, broken by only two brief halts, the Fellowship marched on, hearing and seeing no danger. The floor was now level and sound, with no pits or cracks, and had apparently once been an important road for the Dwarves. The going was consequently much faster, and it seemed that everyone's spirits rose at least a little, though it was still pitch black save for the wizard's staff. Finally the walls on either side vanished, and they seemed to have passed into a great and empty space. There was a draught of warmer air behind them, and cold air in front on their faces.

"I think we have chosen the right way," said Gandalf. "We cannot be too far now from the eastern exit. From the feeling of the air we must be in a wide hall. I will now risk a little real light."

He raised his staff, and the white light on the end of it grew brighter, revealing a vast roof over their heads, held up by many mighty pillars of stone. They stretched out in three directions as far as the eye could see, and all the members of the Fellowship gasped with wonder. "Now there's an eye-opener, no doubt," said Sam.

"This was the great realm and city of the Dwarrowdelf," said Gimli. "My ancestors made sure there was light here, light from holes in the side of the mountain. It must be night outside now, else we would have seen them."

"Most likely," agreed Gandalf, dimming his staff. "At any rate, we have been walking for over ten hours, and we are all tired. Let us rest here for the night, and with luck this will be our last night in Moria."

Indeed, when morning came, there was a faint ray of sunlight, high towards the east. After a quick cold breakfast, the Fellowship made their way towards the source of the light, Gimli in particular seeming eager. They passed underneath a great arch and into a wide corridor. As they went along it the glimmer grew brighter, and soon they came to a side-door, half open, from which the glow seem to radiate. Gimli ran forward, ignoring a warning from Gandalf, and entered the room, the others right behind him.

Though the light was dim, to their eyes, used to the pitch blackness, it seemed dazzlingly bright, and all blinked as they entered. A hole, high in the eastern wall, provided the sunlight, and the beam was focused directly on a large stone tomb in the center of the room. Gandalf read the runes inscribed on it. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria."

"He is dead then," said Frodo. "I feared it was so." Gimli cast his hood over his face.

They stood silent beside the tomb for several minutes, Gimli and Frodo in particular simply staring at the tomb. The others looked around, and saw many skeletons of dwarves and orcs, with spent arrows, broken shields, and rusty blades and axe-heads among them. Near the tomb was a well, a skeleton entangled with a chain and bucket on its rim, the opening leading down into darkness.

At length they stirred, and began looking around the room for anything that would give them clues to the fates of Balin and his companions. Gandalf found a heavy book clutched in the bony arms of a skeleton. Handing his staff and hat to Pippin, who was nearest, he pulled the book out, blew the dust off, and turned to the ending pages.

"We must move on. We cannot linger," Legolas whispered to Aragorn.

Gandalf began to read. "They have taken the bridge, and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep." Fear appeared on all the Fellowship's faces as they listened. Pippin nervously began backing away towards the well.

The wizard turned to the last page. "We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming."

Pippin touched the skeleton, causing the skull to suddenly pop loose and fly down the well with a clatter. As everyone whirled toward the sound in alarm, the rest of the skeleton went down the well, followed by the chain and bucket. There were several very loud crashes, each magnified and repeated several times in whatever echo chamber the well led to.

Pippin winced as one last echo from the falling objects was broadcast throughout the mines. Everyone waited in total silence for several seconds. When there was no response, several of the Fellowship let out sighs of relief.

"Fool of a Took!" growled Gandalf, putting the book down and snatching back his staff and hat. "Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity."

He began turning away, but suddenly froze and looked back at the well when everyone heard something. Doom-doom. Faint drumbeats in the distance. They came again, slightly louder, this time accompanied by a distant but loud high-pitched shrieking.

"Mr. Frodo!" said Sam, pointing. Frodo looked at Sting and saw that it was glowing bright blue.

"Orcs!" cried Legolas. The drumbeats grew louder, and an orange glow appeared in the hallway outside, growing ever brighter.

"Trapped! Just like they were." Gandalf put on his hat. "We must now stand and fight."


	5. Battles in the Deep

Boromir raced to the door to close it and was almost hit by two black arrows that embedded themselves in the wood. There was a roar in the distance and the Man of Gondor shook his head as he pulled the door shut. "They have a cave-troll."

Aragorn helped Boromir barricade the door, at the same time calling out to the hobbits. "Get back! Stay close to Gandalf!" After wedging several axes into the door-bars, they stepped back to join the others.

Gimli leapt up onto Balin's tomb, an axe in each hand. "Let them come! There is one dwarf in Moria who still draws breath!" Legolas and Aragorn fitted arrows to their bows, aiming at the door. Gandalf drew his sword, Glamdring, glowing bright blue, and held it in one hand, with his staff in the other. The hobbits stood behind him, short swords in their hands, all trembling.

Boromir and Eowyn stood next to one another at one side of the tomb. Boromir had his sword and shield ready. He looked at her and nodded, and she nodded back. Her fingers were shaking as she pulled the string back on her crossbow, loading a bolt.

Grunting and snarling came from just beyond the door. As the unseen enemies hacked away at the barricade, Eowyn felt cold fear flowing through her. Although she was well-trained with the sword, she, just like the hobbits, had no actual combat experience. Her arms kept shaking as she tried to hold the crossbow steady. She was used to hunting food, not orcs.

Gaps appeared in the wooden door as the orcs continued hacking away. Legolas and Aragorn each let loose an arrow into a hole, and two squeals were heard. Eowyn let a bolt fly. It whizzed past Aragorn's head a few inches to the left before embedding itself in the wood.

Aragorn and Legolas each fired their second arrows into the holes before the Ranger turned, giving the blonde woman a sharp look. "Eowyn! This isn't like hunting squirrels. Be careful!"

"Sorry," she said in a small voice, repositioning herself as she reloaded her crossbow. She fired again, this time sending her projectile through one of the gaps in the door, though with the noise the orcs were making she couldn't be sure if she had hit something.

Then the doors came crashing down and a horde of vile, foul-looking, snarling orcs poured into the room. Several fell to the swift arrows of Aragorn and Legolas, and Eowyn had time for one more shot, this time having the satisfaction of seeing her bolt fell an orc, embedding itself in its head.

Then the horde was upon them, and Legolas and Aragorn drew their blades, slashing away. Boromir moved forward, slicing orcs to pieces with his sword and blocking their attacks with his shield, and Gimli began attacking with his axes. Gandalf charged, orcs being sliced and clonked with Glamdring and his staff. Behind him, the hobbits let out loud yells as they entered the melee.

Eowyn shouldered her crossbow and drew her sword and shield as two orcs came right at her, almost seeming like they were grinning. She bashed the first in the face with her shield as the second took a swing with a wicked-looking curved blade. She parried it with her own sword and slashed it in the side. Black orc blood stained her sword for the first time. As the orc growled, she plunged her blade into the center of its chest and withdrew it with a squishing sound. She raised her shield just in time to block the other orc's swing, then swung her weapon, ripping her opponent's throat open.

Aragorn decapitated an orc, sending the head flying past Eowyn. Then a horrible roar was heard as another orc entered, leading an enormous cave-troll on a chain. Legolas fired an arrow into the monster's chest, which only enraged it. The troll swung a gigantic mace at Sam, who was nearest. He ducked under it. The troll raised its huge foot to step on him, but Aragorn and Boromir stopped it from coming down by yanking on the troll's chain. The troll snapped the chain, sending Boromir, who had not let go in time, flying across the room. An orc approached the stunned Boromir and prepared to strike, but a dagger hurled by Aragorn buried itself in the orc's neck. He looked at Boromir and nodded.

Gimli threw one of his axes into the troll's chest. It roared and and brought its mace down on Balin's tomb, knocking Gimli off of it. As the troll came closer, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin sought cover behind a large slab of stone. The troll swung its mace wildly at Gimli several times, but missed and hit several orcs instead.

Legolas fired two arrows into the troll, then dispatched several orcs with his knives. The enraged troll began swinging its chain at him. Eowyn took aim with her crossbow and fired a bolt at the troll's backside. The little crossbow did not have the power of an Elven bow, however, and the bolt simply bounced off the troll's thick skin. She let out a curse in Rohirric, then loaded another bolt, firing it through an orc's neck.

As the troll swung its chain at Legolas once more, the elf put his foot on the chain, then leapt onto the troll and fired an arrow into its head. The arrow did not go through the creature's skull, however, and it continued flailing its arms as Legolas jumped off of it.

Two orcs cornered Eowyn, swinging axes at her. She blocked the first with her shield and parried the other with her sword. She kicked the first orc in the chest, sending it backward, and stabbed the second in the eye. The first orc came at her again with its axe. She dodged to the side, then swung her blade swiftly, decapitating her attacker. She glanced down at her shield. The white horse's head that was painted on it now had a deep notch, but the shield's integrity was sound.

Sam clonked several orcs with his frying pan. "I think I'm getting the hang of this!" he shouted.

The troll suddenly grabbed Frodo by the leg and began dragging him out from behind the stone. "Aragorn!" the Ring-bearer cried.

Leaping down in front of the troll, Aragorn rammed a spear into its chest, driving it in with all his strength as the monster roared in pain. The troll flung the Ranger to the side, then pulled the spear out of its body. As Frodo bent over the stunned Aragorn, the troll stabbed the hobbit in the chest. Frodo slumped down, pale.

"Frodo!" cried Sam. Merry and Pippin looked at each other, then jumped onto the troll and began stabbing it in the head. The rest of the Fellowship dispatched the remaining orcs, then approached the troll. When it roared, Legolas fired an arrow into its mouth. The arrow went through the roof of its mouth and pierced its brain. With a final moan, the troll collapsed dead to the floor with a huge crash.

Everyone rushed to Frodo. Aragorn sat him up, and he coughed and opened his eyes. "I'm okay."

"That spear would have skewered a wild boar," said Aragorn, shaking his head.

"I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye," said Gandalf. Reluctantly, Frodo pulled down the top of his shirt to reveal the mithril mail-coat he was wearing underneath it.

"You are full of surprises, Master Baggins!" said Gimli.

The distinctive sound of more orcs came from the distance. "To the bridge of Khazad-dum!" Gandalf cried.

The Fellowship ran through the great hall, a horde of orcs pursuing them. More came at them from the front, and from both sides. Eowyn looked upward, half expecting orcs to come down from the ceiling, but there were none there. That would have been silly. They were orcs, not spiders.

Still, the Fellowship was soon completely surrounded by the orcs. They stood in a circle, weapons pointed outward at the enemies, watching the orcs snarl and shriek...

Suddenly, there came a horrible growling sound, distant but very loud. The orcs squealed louder, now looking uncertain and afraid. The growl came again, and this time the orcs began running away. Gimli shouted in triumph, but the others were not so confident. "What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked.

An orange glow appeared from the direction of the growls. Even at this distance, they could feel the heat radiating from it. A look of dread appeared on Gandalf's face.

"A Balrog. A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

And run they did, towards the bridge. They approached the narrow set of stairs that led down to it. Boromir, in the lead, almost toppled over the edge. Legolas grabbed him and pulled him back.

They raced down the stairs in single file, until they came to a chasm where the stairs were broken. Legolas jumped across first, followed by Gandalf. Boromir tossed Merry and Pippin across, then leapt across himself. Aragorn tossed Sam, then prepared to toss Gimli, but he shook himself loose. "No one tosses a dwarf!"

Gimli leapt across, and the tips of his toes touched the other side, but he began to fall. Legolas grabbed him and pulled him to safety by the beard. "No, not the beard!" cried Gimli in pain.

Aragorn looked at Eowyn. "Can you make it?"

"I think so." She gathered herself and jumped with all her strength, and her feet touched the other side, but she slipped. Boromir grabbed onto the first thing he could - her hair - to pull her to safety. "No, not the hair!" she cried in pain before giving Boromir a look of thanks.

The flames behind them grew brighter and hotter as the Balrog drew closer. The ceiling began to shake and sizzle. A massive piece of rock fell from above, smashing into the staircase above Aragorn and Frodo. They began to fall forward. "Hang on!" cried Aragorn. They fell towards the others and were caught by them.

They finally reached the Bridge, narrow and dangerous. They raced across it single file, Gandalf in the rear. But instead of running across, he stopped in the middle and turned around. "Gandalf!" cried Frodo.

The Balrog, a huge, burning demon with glowing eyes, approached the bridge. It carried in one mutilated hand a burning sword, and in the other a flaming whip of many thongs.

"You cannot pass!" shouted Gandalf. He raised his staff and it glowed with a white light.

The Balrog slammed its sword down towards the wizard, but the red blade shattered against the power of the white light. The demon roared and began advancing onto the bridge, swinging its whip.

"He cannot stand alone!" cried Boromir, beginning to rush forward.

But before he could get there, Gandalf drove his staff down onto the bridge. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" The bridge cracked and broke in the middle. The Balrog's side of it crumbled away and the demon began falling into the darkness. The wizard turned away, looking spent.

Suddenly, the Balrog's whip came soaring up and wrapped itself around Gandalf's leg. He was yanked over the edge of the bridge, stopping his fall only by his fingertips.

"Fly, you fools!" he shouted. Then he let go and was gone.

"NOOOOOO!" shouted Frodo. Orcs appeared on the other side of the chasm and began firing arrows at them. The Fellowship raced towards the eastern gate of Moria, Aragorn clutching Frodo, and finally emerged into the sunlight once again. When they were out of bowshot range of Moria's walls they finally stopped and stared back at the side of the mountain, all of them trying to process the sheer magnitude of their loss.


	6. Lothlorien

It was not long before Aragorn pressed them on, saying that by nightfall the hills would be swarming with orcs. So the Fellowship made their way down the eastern slope of the foothills, hoping to reach the cover of the woods of Lothlorien by dark. The sun was setting behind the mountains as they reached the first trees.

Soon they crossed a shallow stream, which Legolas said was called Nimrodel, and after the ford the trees grew thicker and taller. "I have heard of a powerful and dangerous elven witch who dwells in these woods," said Gimli.

"The legends of Gondor tell a similar tale," said Boromir. "They say that many go into the forest, but few come out, and those that do come out are not unscathed."

"Well, what..." began Sam, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw an Elven archer only a few yards away, pointing an arrow at his face. The entire Fellowship froze, and saw many Elves all around them, all with bows aimed at them.

"Easy...keep calm," said Aragorn. Legolas spoke in Elvish, and at length the warriors lowered their bows, but remained stock-still surrounding them, their faces expressionless.

At last one Elf stepped forward, speaking in the Common Tongue. "I am Haldir, Warden of Lothlorien. Seldom do we receive visitors here, but I have been informed of your coming. I have also been informed that you carry a great evil with you. I am afraid we cannot let you pass."

Legolas again spoke in Elvish with Haldir, and Aragorn joined him, pleading their case. Finally Haldir said, "Legolas is kin to us, and the name of Aragorn son of Arathron is known to us as a friend. If you vouch for the others, we can let you pass. However, because we have not had any dealings with Dwarves since the Dark Days, the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf must be blindfolded if he is to walk through Lothlorien."

This, naturally, was not at all to the liking of Gimli. "I will not walk blindfolded, like a beggar or a prisoner," he growled.

"Come now!" said Aragorn. "It is hard for the Dwarf to be thus singled out. We shall all walk blindfolded."

"A merry troop of fools we shall look!" said Gimli. "Will Haldir lead us on a string, like many blind beggars with one dog? But I will be content, if only Legolas shares my blindness."

"I am an Elf and a kinsman here," growled Legolas, becoming angry in his turn.

"Enough," said Aragorn. "The Company shall fare alike. Bind all our eyes, Haldir!"

"I shall lead you well, and the paths are smooth and straight," said Haldir.

As the blindfold went over her eyes, Eowyn took a deep breath. She could still hear the birds singing and the bubbling of a nearby stream, and she still caught the fresh scent of the trees. Then they were moving, and true to Haldir's word there was nothing to slip or stumble upon, and they made surprisingly good time.

A few hours later, Haldir called a halt, and suddenly the blindfold was removed from Eowyn's eyes. She blinked in the afteroon sunlight, and looking around saw that the trees were far taller than they had been before.

"A message has been brought to me from the Lord and Lady of the Wood," said Haldir. "You are all to walk free, even Gimli. It seems that the Lady Galadriel knows who and what is each member of your Company." He stopped before the Dwarf. "Look on us now with friendly eyes, for you are the first dwarf to behold the trees of the Naith of Lorien since Durin's Day!"

Haldir led them on, and as they walked Eowyn wondered what kind of powers the Lady Galadriel had, that she could know those she had never met. Soon the Fellowship came to a great hill that glowed with seemingly thousands of lamp-lights in the darkening twilight. At the top of the hill was an enormous tree, and a winding staircase was wrapped around it.

They ascended the stairs until at the top they at last saw the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien, Celeborn and Galadriel. Very tall they were, and the Lady no less tall than the Lord, and they were both clad wholly in white. Celeborn's hair was of silver, and Galadriel's a deep golden blonde, and their faces bore no expression that Eowyn could read.

"Ten set out from Rivendell, so the messages told," said Lord Celeborn, "yet only nine stand before me now. Tell me, where is Gandalf the Grey, for I have much desired to speak with him."

Galadriel's face showed emotion for the first time, an expression of deep pain. "He has fallen into shadow," she whispered.

"Alas, it is true," said Aragorn. "He went with us into Moria, but did not come out."

At Celeborn's urging, the Ranger then told the full tale of all that had happened since they left Rivendell, finishing with Gandalf's fall after battling the Balrog. Celeborn sighed. "Wise was Gandalf the Grey. And yet it would seem that at last, he fell from wisdom into folly, going needlessly into the net of Moria."

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," said Galadriel. "Those that followed him knew not the depths of his mind nor his full purpose. There is more at work here than the eye can see." She stepped forward, approaching the members of the Fellowship more closely. "I cannot tell you what choices to make. But I will say this. Your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the Company is true."

And with those words she looked searchingly at each of them in turn. None but Legolas and Aragorn could long endure her glance. When the Lady looked at her, Eowyn suddenly felt as if she was standing at a fork in a road, looking down the two paths in turn. As she felt herself about to make a decision, the image suddenly vanished from her mind as Galadriel moved past her to look at Sam.

lllll

The Elves provided the Fellowship with soft couches to sleep upon under the stars, and the travelers talked amongst themselves before going to bed. The sound of Elvish voices singing a slow, sad song came through the trees. Legolas told them it was a lament for Gandalf, but said he had not the heart to translate the words.

Eventually Pippin and Merry fell asleep, and Gimli soon after, snoring loudly. Aragorn and Legolas wandered off, and Frodo and Sam remained huddled near each other, whispering quietly. Eowyn sat on the grass, leaning back to look at the stars, and presently Boromir approached and sat next to her. "This Elvish lady," he said. "What did you feel when she looked at you?"

"I felt as if I had to make a choice, between a glorious celebration of Rohan standing triumphant in battle on one hand, and the familiar sight of standing alone on the steps of the Golden Hall on the other, waiting for my family to return," she answered. "It was as if she could see my thoughts, and was watching me as I tried to decide, but offered no hints or advice."

"I felt a similar thing when she looked at me," said Boromir. "I saw the White City returned to its former glory, the crown jewel in a great Empire of Men, and on the other hand I saw my city burning, surrounded by orcs. I know not what it is supposed to mean, and I can only guess." His voice grew lower. "And what of the Ring? None of us have spoken anything of it for a long while. What if using it will provide the margin between victory and defeat? Who knows? Ah, if my brother Faramir were here he would say that the Ring is too evil for us to use. So close we are, and yet so different."

"Tell me more of your brother," said Eowyn. "He was but a teenager when I saw him last, and I myself was but a little girl, and I remember little."

"He is a brave warrior, but he does not love the sword, only what it defends," said Boromir. "Things are difficult sometimes between him and our father, for it pains me to say that our father favors me. But he loves Faramir too, deep down inside, and I hope my brother knows that."

They talked at length until the Elven voices died down around them, and Boromir excused himself to lie down. Eowyn lay down as well, to sleep on her side, and just before her eyes closed she thought she saw a vision in white, the Lady Galadriel approaching. Frodo and Sam appeared to stand up and follow her. But then Eowyn fell asleep. When she woke in the morning, the two hobbits seemed different, as if they had seen a deep and dark secret in the night.

After the Fellowship had eaten breakfast, Celeborn and Galadriel again visited them. "The time has come for those who wish to continue the Quest to harden their hearts and leave this land," said Celeborn. "Those who no longer wish to go forward may remain here, at least for a while. But whether you choose to stay or go, none can be sure of peace."

There was a silence, then Galadriel said, "They all resolved to go forward," after looking into each one's eyes.

"As for me," said Boromir, "my way home lies onward and not back. Long have I desired to see Minas Tirith again."

"That is true for myself as well," said Eowyn. "I have been absent from Rohan for many months."

"What of the rest of the Company?" asked Celeborn.

"We have not yet decided our final course," said Aragorn. "Beyond Lothlorien I do not know what Gandalf intended to do. I am not sure if he even had any clear purpose."

"Whatever you decide, travel by land will be dangerous," said Celeborn. "Mordor Orcs now patrol the eastern side of the Great River, and our scouts have reported strange creatures on the west. They are Orc-like, but travel openly in sunlight, and bear the mark of the White Hand of Saruman. They are his Uruk-hai. The River itself will be the quickest and safest way to travel, and it flows towards all your potential paths. I will provide you with boats, for I know that there are some among you who are experienced in handling them: Legolas, whose folk know the swift Forest River, and Boromir of Gondor, and Aragorn the traveler."

"And one hobbit!" added Merry. "Not all of us look upon boats as wild horses. My people, the Brandybucks, live by the banks of the Brandywine."

"That is well," said Celeborn. "Then I shall furnish your Company with boats. They will be small and light, for there will be rapids and falls where you must carry them. Boats will make your journey safer and less tiresome for a while, but they cannot give you counsel. At some point, you must leave them and the river, and choose whether to turn West or East."

Aragorn thanked him, and the Fellowship took leave to try to decide on their next course, but no final decision could be reached. Most of them desired to go first to Minas Tirith, and rest there, at least for a while, safe from the terror of the Enemy. They would have been willing to follow a leader east into Mordor, if one spoke up, but Frodo said nothing of it, and Aragorn was still divided in his mind. He spoke of going to Minas Tirith, and delivering Gondor from the Enemy. Yet there was uncertainty in his voice, as if he knew he could not leave Frodo. What if Frodo refused to go to Gondor?

As for Eowyn, new and conflicting thoughts entered her mind. Earlier, she had been of one mind to get back home to Rohan as soon as possible. But she had grown fond of the Fellowship, particularly Boromir, and she did not wish to leave them. If all of the others decided to go to Gondor, she should stay with them, at least for a while, and make her way back to Rohan later.

"I would go to Minas Tirith alone, if need be, for it is my duty," said Boromir. "If you wish only to destroy the Ring, there is little use in war and weapons, and the Men of Gondor cannot help. But if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his domain. That, I think, is the wiser path. Anyone who goes into Mordor should at least have the chance to defend himself." Eowyn found herself nodding at his words, but Frodo looked away, and the expression of Aragorn was unreadable. And so the Company resolved upon the one thing they could all agree on, which was to follow the river south and make the final decision later.

A party of Elves, led by Haldir, provided them with lembas, or Elvish waybread, for sustenance on their long journey, as well as cloaks that would shield them from unfriendly eyes. "Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people," said Haldir.

Three boats were also provided, with Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam in the first, Boromir, Merry, and Pippin in the second, and Gimli, Legolas, and Eowyn in the last. Gimli and Legolas had become fast friends during their time in Lothlorien, and Eowyn was glad that there would be no arguing in the boat.

And so the Fellowship waved goodbye to the Elves as they launched their boats into the Silverlode stream, which would lead them to the Great River. As they paddled down the Silverlode a large boat, wrought by Elven-craft and carved in the likeness of a great white swan, floated towards them. On it stood Galadriel and Celeborn, and they bade the Company farewell.

At length the Silverlode flowed into the Great River, and the Fellowship now headed due south. At night they camped on the shore, and each day they started on the river early and continued until dusk, for they feared the Enemy had not been idle while they had been resting in Lothlorien.

The country alongside the banks slowly changed as they made their way ever southward, from forested lands to barren plains, and then to rocky, craggy hills with an evil look about them. Eowyn looked often at both shores, and sometimes near dusk or dawn thought she could see dark figurs skulking about the rocks, though whether they were real or a figment of her imagination she could not say. Legolas claimed with his elf-eyes he could catch glimpses of Gollum, trailing them in the distance, though Eowyn was never able to see him herself.

As the days passed and the point of no return, where the Fellowship would have to make their final decision on which way to go, drew ever closer, Eowyn found herself filled more and more with fear and worry. A nagging thought in her mind was telling her that the Ring was the only way to gather enough strength to defeat Sauron, and that throwing it away would be to destroy their most powerful weapon. Another part of her told her to heed the words of Gandalf, Elrond, and Aragorn, that the Ring was altogether evil and could not be wielded for the cause of good. The conflict tormented her, and in Boromir alone, at their camps along the shore, could she confide, for he was having similar thoughts.

A week after leaving Lothlorien the boats approached what seemed to be two great pillars of stone, one on each side of the river. As they drew closer, Eowyn saw that they were shaped and fashioned; giant sculptures made by the craft and power of Men of old. The sculptures were of great kings, with the left hand of each raised palm outwards, and in each right hand an axe. A crown and helm, the stone crumbling, stood upon each carved head. Great power and majesty they still conveyed, the silent wardens of a long-vanished kingdom. In the boat ahead, Boromir bowed his head, and from the first boat Aragorn called out. "Long have I desired to look upon the likenesses of Isildur and Anarion, my ancestors of old!" Then, in a lower voice, barely audible to Eowyn, he continued, "How my heart yearns for the walls of my own city. But whither now shall I go?"

After ten days and nine nights on the River, they approached a lake, beyond which they could hear the roar of the great Falls of Rauros. They could go no further without choice between the eastern way or the west. Aragorn waved for the others to follow him to the shore, where they would make camp, though the afternoon sun was still high in the sky. Tomorrow morning, they would have to decide. Eowyn felt a shiver run down her spine, as if she could foresee that the decision would not be the one she wanted. As if she had known it all along, but had kept pushing the thought out of her mind, telling herself that the choice would be made later, that there was still time. But time had now run out.


	7. The Breaking of the Fellowship

The Fellowship paddled their boats to the western shore of the Great River, where they set up their camp. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli began talking in a small circle. The hobbits formed a circle of their own, speaking in low voices which soon faded away, replaced by the sound of faint snoring.

Boromir stood up. "I will collect some firewood," he announced. Though he spoke to no one in particular, Eowyn alone heard him, as the others were either asleep or engrossed in their own conversations.

She stood as well. "I will join you. I cannot bring myself to sleep, and I do not wish to sit around doing nothing at a time like this."

They set off together, but wood was scarce. As they each collected their sticks, they found themselves drifting farther and farther apart. Soon Eowyn found herself alone.

A faint noise came from the distance. She whirled. Far off, she thought she saw something moving on the horizon, behind some trees. Perhaps an animal? Or just her imagination?

"Boromir? Is that you?" she called out uncertainly.

There was no response. She watched and waited for several moments longer, ready to drop her sticks and draw her weapons if any sign of orcs appeared. But there was nothing. No sight, no sound. Finally, she turned around again. She had a full load of firewood now at any rate. She started back to camp, frequently turning around to glance behind her.

A wave of relief washed over her when the camp came into sight. She had felt an uncharacteristic fear while alone in the woods. A sense of foreboding, as if something dangerous and violent was about to happen. All seemed peaceful at the camp, however. The hobbits were still napping, and Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas were still speaking in low voices. Boromir had not yet returned. She dropped her pile of sticks at the edge of the clearing.

Merry suddenly opened his eyes with a start and looked around. "Where's Frodo?"

Sam and Pippin sat up as well, and the others stopped their conversation to look. Sure enough, there were only three hobbits. Frodo was indeed missing.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "We have to find him!" He dashed off into the trees. Merry and Pippin raced off in another direction. All three hobbits called out Frodo's name loudly as they ran.

"Wait!" shouted Aragorn. "We must divide up into pairs, and arrange...Hold on! Wait!"

It was no use. The hobbits were already gone, and even Legolas and Gimli were running as well. With a sigh, Aragorn himself raced off in a direction of his own.

Left alone, Eowyn, remembering the mysterious flashes of movement she had seen in the woods, picked up her shield and strapped it to her back before heading off. She tried to follow the path she thought Boromir had taken. With luck, at least the two of them could look for Frodo together.

After several minutes, she had found no trace of Boromir, but suddenly, through a gap in the trees, she saw Frodo. He was alone, seated on a rock, looking out over the wilderness, appearing deep in thought.

"Frodo," she called out. "Come with me back to camp. Everyone is looking for you. They are worried."

The hobbit spoke, but did not turn his head. "I needed a place to be by myself. A heavy burden weighs upon me."

"I know of what you speak," she replied. She sat down next to him. "But you need not bear that burden alone. We are all here for you."

"No. This charge is mine, and mine alone."

"But why should it have to be?" Eowyn's tone was changing, and although she was not conscious of it, the Ring-bearer was. "I see what this is doing to you. You need not suffer in this manner."

"I know the counsel you are about to offer me. And it would seem like wisdom were it not for the warnings I received from wiser minds than mine," Frodo answered. His body was growing tense now, and he began to stand up.

"Why make such a hasty decision, to throw the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom, without even talking about it?" said Eowyn, standing up as well, her voice rising. "Fate brought us all together to Rivendell. Why should it not be destiny that brought us the Ring as well? So long have we prayed for help as orcs pillaged our farms and slowly dragged our land to ruin. And now, at last, an answer is received! This Ring, it is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor and Isengard. Why not use the power of the Enemy against him? My uncle, King Theoden, could use it to lead the armies of Rohan to victory! And if he refused, I could wield it myself. The Ring would give me power of Command. I would annihilate the stinking hordes of Isengard, and become a great warrior princess! Never again would I stand helpless on the steps of the Golden Hall, watching our men ride away and wondering how many will come back..."

Eowyn began pacing back and forth, her voice continuing to rise. She spoke of the mustering of armies, and the rebuilding of empires, and the defeat of Saruman, and how she would become a mighty Queen, benevolent and wise. Suddenly, she stopped.

"And yet, some would throw this Ring away?" she cried. "True, perhaps that would be a wise decision, if it had any chance of succeeding. But to walk into Mordor, blind and virtually unarmed, to give the Enemy every chance of recapturing it for himself...do you not see what folly that is?"

"I see now," said Frodo. "I am glad that you have spoken so freely. My mind is clearer now."

"Then you will come with me to Rohan?" said Eowyn eagerly, her eyes shining.

"No, you misunderstand me," said Frodo.

"But just come with me for a little while. Is that too much to ask? My people will welcome you, and give you rest after your long journey through the wilderness. You will need it, at any rate, if you wish to go to Mordor eventually." She placed her hand on Frodo's shoulder in a friendly manner, but the hobbit felt something different, and stepped backward.

"What is this? I am no thief," said Eowyn. "I am a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. I need your Ring, you know it. I give you my word that I do not desire to keep it, just to use it to free my land. If you would but just lend me the Ring..." She held out her hand.

"No!" cried Frodo. "The Council laid it upon myself, and myself alone, to bear it."

"But why suffer alone? Just give it to me, and be free of this burden." She stood still, hand still outstretched.

"I cannot." There was a look of fear in Frodo's eyes as he looked at Eowyn's tall form with her sword at her side. He began to back away.

"Then I will have to take it," said Eowyn, suddenly reaching out and attempting to snatch the Ring from underneath Frodo's shirt. There was a yell, a glint of gold, then Frodo suddenly vanished. Eowyn cried out in pain as a kick landed on her leg. A line of bushes rustled, the sound growing fainter and fainter. Then there was silence.

Eowyn looked around. She froze in horror as the realization of what she had done hit her. She hadn't listened. She had let the Ring poison her mind. Her body began to shake as she collapsed to her knees, crying out. "Frodo! Forgive me! What have I done? Only now do I see. Only now, too late!"

There was a loud crunch behind her as someone stepped on a fallen branch. She stood and turned, opening her mouth to speak, when she saw that standing not ten feet away from her was not any member of the Fellowship, but an orc. As tall as her and far more muscular, it carried a jagged blade and a heavy shield, and a white imprint in the shape of a hand was tattooed across its face. An Uruk-Hai. She swallowed hard, trying to put thoughts of the Ring out of her mind. She had to focus on battle now.

The creature charged her with a snarl. Eowyn sprang backwards onto her hands, completing her flip to land back on her feet, and drew her sword and shield. Their blades clashed against one another and against shields several times until she suddenly lashed out with a kick, her booted foot striking the Uruk in the face. Before the stunned creature could recover, she decapitated it with a swift swing.

More snarls came from her left. Three more Uruk-Hai, drawn to the sounds of combat, were racing towards her. Dropping her other weapons, she drew her crossbow and loaded a bolt. She took aim and fired, the bolt slamming into the first enemy's neck and dropping it to the dirt.

She reloaded the weapon as fast as she could, pointing it downwards and grunting as she brought the string upward to re-cock it. Although this one could be reloaded faster than the heavy crossbows that required a crank to operate, she still wished she had the Elven bow - and the Elven skills - of Legolas.

She let fly her second bolt, but cursed as the Uruk moved its shield unexpectedly fast, the metal bolt clanging harmlessly off of it. With the two large orcs almost upon her now, Eowyn dropped the crossbow and snatched up her sword and shield, at a disadvantage blocking and parrying blows from two opponents at once. As her opponents began positioning themselves to pin her between them, she lashed out with a low kick to one's knee and was rewarded with a crunching sound. She sliced the other Uruk-Hai's throat wide open, black blood spraying out.

She turned to face her other enemy and was greeted with a shield to the face that knocked her flat on her back. The Uruk roared as it stood over her, raising its blade. As it began bringing the weapon down, she suddenly drove her own sword into the center of its torso. She impaled it deeper, then yanked it out, kicked the body away, and leapt back to her feet.

Eowyn looked all around, her heart racing. Suddenly, she heard a familiar, distinctive sound. The Horn of Gondor! Boromir! She raced towards the noise, hoping she wouldn't be too late.

She crested a ridge and looked down into a clearing. Boromir was standing there, cleaving Uruk-Hai as he wielded his sword in a two-handed grip. A pile of Uruks already lay dead on the ground before him. Near him, Pippin and Merry were hurling rocks at the advancing horde of enemies with impressive efficiency. Still, they were terribly outnumbered.

Eowyn drew her crossbow and sent a bolt into the center of an enemy's chest, not even bothering to watch the impact as she began the process of loading her next projectile. As the corpse thudded to the dirt, snarls came from the orcs as they reacted to the presence of this new opponent. Several Uruks detached themselves from the main group and charged her.

Eowyn, finished reloading, took careful aim and shot an Uruk in the center of its forehead, sending the body falling into a pile of dead leaves, looking like a scruffy unicorn. Thinking she had time for one more shot, she reloaded once more, but suddenly the rest were upon her. She stabbed the nearest one in the eye with the metal bolt. It stood ramrod straight for a second before collapsing to the dirt.

The others were about to overwhelm her, but two fell thanks to well-aimed rocks by Merry and Pippin. Another died as Boromir, not missing a beat, snatched up a knife from the ground and hurled it right into its neck. Eowyn, now able to draw her sword, inserted the blade into the throat of the last Uruk in front of her. Withdrawing it with a squishing sound, she gave a nod of thanks to the others, then hurried down to join them.

Eowyn and Boromir stood back-to-back as they fought off the seemingly endless horde of orcs. Merry and Pippin continued to throw rocks. Eowyn, admiring Boromir's strength and skill with the blade from what she could see out of the corner of her eye, wondered how much longer she could keep this up. She had extensive training in swordswomanship, but her first real battle had come but less than two moons ago in Moria.

Suddenly, there was a loud buzzing sound followed by a THUNK and a cry of pain. Eowyn whirled, her eyes widening when she saw Boromir with a large black arrow in his shoulder. Pippin and Merry froze as well, rocks still in their hands. Up the hill, perhaps fifty feet away, stood a huge, heavily muscled Uruk-Hai, larger than the others. It held a bow, and was already reaching for another arrow.

Whipping out her crossbow, Eowyn saw that she had one bolt left and loaded it as fast as she could. She let it fly just as the Uruk was drawing its own string back. The bolt impacted it in the center of its chest. The black orc arrow, now off target, sailed harmlessly through the leaves.

Instead of falling, the massive Uruk-Hai growled, looked down at the bolt in its torso, yanked it out, snapped it in two, and threw the pieces on the ground. Eowyn gulped, letting out a curse in Rohirric that would have made both Theoden and Eomer angry, and Theodred proud. Though trembling with fear, Eowyn forced herself to begin charging the monster, a high-pitched battle cry emerging from her lips.

"Eowyn! No!" cried Boromir. The Uruk fired another arrow and Eowyn raised her shield. The thick arrow from the powerful weapon splintered the small wooden shield in two, the projectile grazing across the top of her shoulder, ripping through skin and flesh, before embedding itself in a tree trunk. She cursed again as she regretted her decision, so many moons ago, to leave her heavier metal shield behind in favor of the lighter wooden one for her long journey. She felt her shoulder, her fingers coming up slick with blood.

Another horde of Uruks burst from the trees. Merry and Pippin, with cries of rage, charged them with their swords, but were scooped up and carried off, still screaming. Boromir and Eowyn looked at one another, then at the Uruk-Hai leader, who was drawing back his bow again. They nodded, then charged together. He couldn't shoot both of them. But one would have to die. Then the survivor could lead the others after Merry and Pippin. Eowyn's heart raced faster as she drew closer, letting out a high-pitched warrior cry, hoping that in death she could find redemption for what she had done to Frodo...

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Aragorn crashed into the Uruk-Hai just as it was about to fire. Recovering from its initial surpise, the Uruk knocked the Ranger hard to the dirt. Aragorn stabbed his opponent in the thigh with his dagger. The massive orc simply snarled, yanked the blade out, licked off the blood, and flung it at Aragorn, who deflected it with his sword.

Aragorn leapt back to his feet, his blade clashing repeatedly against his opponent's. After several clangs, he cut off the Uruk's arm, then stabbed it in the chest. Showing neither fear nor pain, the orc simply impaled itself deeper on the blade, its snarling face with razor-sharp teeth nearing Aragorn's. The Ranger withdrew his sword and decapitated the Uruk-Hai, finally finishing it.

"Boromir! Boromir!" Aragorn and Eowyn both bent over the son of the Steward.

The Gondorian warrior groaned. "It hurts, but I will live. Lady Eowyn is injured as well."

"It's nothing, just a graze," she said as Aragorn turned to look at her. "It is Boromir we must worry about. And Merry and Pippin."

"Which way did they take them?" Aragorn asked.

"That way." Boromir pointed with his good arm. "When we find the others..."

Gimli and Legolas suddenly appeared through the trees. Gimli had his axe in hand, and Legolas his knives, all the weapons soaked with black orc blood. All of Legolas' arrows were spent.

"We were hunting orcs in the woods. We hurried here when we heard the Horn of Gondor," said the elf.

"Boromir!" cried Gimli as he noticed the large black arrow embedded in the man's shoulder. "Are you..."

"I will be all right." He winced in pain as Eowyn and Aragorn helped him stand.

Aragorn quickly examined the wound. "It is too dangerous to try pulling it out now. We must wait until we can get him to a proper healer."

"So what is our next course?" asked Eowyn. "Boromir is wounded, Merry and Pippin have been taken by the Uruks, and Frodo and Sam..." Her voice trailed off as she remembered what had happened. "Where did they go?"

"They took a boat to the eastern shore, alone," said Legolas. "If we make haste, we can..."

Aragorn shook his head. Legolas looked at him. "You mean not to follow them."

"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," said the Ranger.

Gimli sighed. "Then it has all been in vain. The Fellowship has failed."

"Not if we hold true to each other," said Aragorn. "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left." He tucked his dagger into his belt.

"That is right," Boromir growled. "We will finish what they started."

"Not you, Boromir. You are wounded. We need to get you to medical attention as soon as possible," said Aragorn. Boromir opened his mouth to protest, but Aragorn continued, "You cannot chase orcs across the plains with an arrow sticking out of your shoulder."

"Let me take him to Rohan," said Eowyn. "It is not far, and I am anxious to see my home again. Our healers can help him." As much as she hated to admit it, she knew that she wouldn't be able to keep up with Legolas' Elven speed, Gimli's dwarven endurance, and Aragorn's Numenorean blood.

"Yes," Legolas agreed. "Aragorn, Gimli, and myself will hunt down those Orcs and liberate Merry and Pippin from their foul clutches."

Aragorn was already breaking down the camp. "Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light. Let's hunt some orc."

"Yes!" roared Gimli. Even the normally stoic Legolas showed the hint of a grin.

"There is not time for proper farewells," said Aragorn. "Make haste for Rohan, and always be on the lookout for enemies, including those from where you would not expect."

"Know that I would have followed you to the end, my captain...my king," said Boromir. "Should fate stand on our side once more I may yet have that chance."

"As would I, my lord," said Eowyn. She itched to tell him about how she had tried to take the ring from Frodo, but she could not distract him when he was about to lead a mission to rescue the Halflings. Or was that just an excuse she was making up in her mind? Was she too ashamed to tell him? She looked at him and as he looked back, she felt that already he knew something.

After saying their final goodbyes, the remnants of the Fellowship broke, with Legolas leading the way for the trackers, his elf-eyes following the trail the Uruk-Hai had made, Aragorn and Gimli right behind him. Eowyn and Boromir watched them go until they had disappeared from sight, then began making their way towards Rohan.

lllll

Author's note: Yes, yes, I know. Big-time messing with canon with BoromirLives! But Eowyn's presence has changed events. Destiny, however, will remain the same.

As for Eowyn trying to take the Ring - from what we know of her burning desire to help her homeland and her hatred of feeling helpless, it could have easily happened that way had Eowyn been part of the Fellowship.

Anyway, it should set up a nice redemption arc for her.


	8. The Journey Home

Eowyn and Boromir stopped to camp that night on the barren plains north of Rohan, with no companions save the constant noise of the wind. Eowyn had cleaned Boromir's wound as best she could, and dressed it in makeshift bandages. Still, it unnerved her each time she looked at the arrow sticking out from his flesh. She wanted to remove it, but each time the thought entered her mind she remembered Aragorn's warning. This time, she would listen, she told herself. She inspected her own wound, checking underneath the makeshift cloth bandages she had put on, and was relived to find that the bleeding had mostly stopped.

Supper was stale bread and a little bit of wild fruit they had chanced upon. There was no game in sight. After they had eaten, Eowyn lay Boromir down gently on his back. "Are you comfortable?"

"As comfortable as I can be with an arrow in me." She managed a small laugh in response, then lay down next to him, pressing her body against his for warmth. She took a deep breath, knowing she couldn't put this off any longer.

"Boromir," she said in a low, serious voice, looking into his eyes. "There's something I have to tell you. I...I tried to take the Ring from Frodo."

He stared at her. She went on. "Earlier this afternoon, at the camp by the river. You were still out looking for firewood. I was searching for you when I chanced upon Frodo. We started talking about the Ring and...and...Its pull was too powerful. I fell to it. I tried to grab it off of him. He put it on and disappeared. Now he and Sam are off to Mordor, alone..." Several tears rolled down her cheeks (not just one single tear, that would be silly) and she whispered. "I wasn't strong enough, Boromir. I wasn't strong enough to resist it." She pulled her body away from his. "If you cannot forgive me, I understand."

"No, no, Eowyn," said Boromir, moving back next to her. "There is nothing to forgive. For I too have been tempted by the call of the Ring. If I had been the one to chance upon Frodo alone, who knows what actions I may have taken? None can resist the call of the Ring if they spend too long a time near it, save perhaps one peculiar character I read about in one of my father's books, a fellow named Tom Bombadil. But Bombadil we are not, and flawed we are. We all are. The important thing is that Frodo still has a chance, and you and I have seen the light."

Her face showed visible relief at his words. "The dreams. The first brought me to Rivendell, and I began trusting them. But the others did not come from the same benevolent source as the first. They came from the Ring, trying to tempt me into using it for myself. And they reached the innermost depths of my mind." She explained each of her dreams to Boromir in detail. "I thank you for your understanding." Her breathing was calmer now, but her face was still sad.

"Do not let guilt eat away at you," said Boromir. "When Gandalf stood alone against the Balrog, I wanted to rush forward and aid him. But he was struck down before I could get there. I, for a while, thought that I could have saved him, before I realized finally that there was nothing any of us could have done. None of us can change destiny. Gandalf was destined to fall in Moria. But he is a great and powerful being, and somehow I feel that that was not the final end for him."

"I don't know how, but I feel the same way," said Eowyn. "Though I wish he were here now; perhaps his magic could provide warmth on this cold night, since we cannot risk a fire in these Orc-infested lands."

Boromir nodded, then yawned. "Go to sleep," said Eowyn. "I can keep watch all night."

"No," he said. "You need your rest too. I will sleep now, but wake me in the middle of the night so I may take my turn."

After Boromir had gone to sleep, Eowyn sat and looked up at the stars, wondering what was in store for Middle-Earth. So much had happened so quickly, and there seemed to be no answers. She looked at Boromir as he snored softly, and at the arrow still sticking out of him, and shivered at his close call. As the night wore on, she became almost glad of what seemed like wolf-howls in the distance, for they kept her awake and alert. She was very weary when she judged from the stars that half the night had passed, and woke Boromir.

Two more lonely nights they spent on the barren plains, and Boromir seemed to grow more pale. On the fourth day Eowyn breathed a sigh of relief when they reached a small village on the outskirts of Rohan. She was home at last after a long journey, but she worried for Boromir.

An old woman, an experienced healer, removed the arrow from Boromir's shoulder, and after cleaning and bandaging his wound bade him rest for the night. The villagers whispered at the presence of the White Lady of Rohan and the Man of Gondor, out alone in the wilderness, but spoke very little to them, as if they were afraid. A sense of dread seemed to hang over all the people, and when Eowyn asked for news from Edoras they spoke only vague rumors of dark tidings.

The next morning, at Boromir's insistence, though Eowyn wanted him to rest longer, they set out for the Golden Hall. The local stable-master provided them with horses, and though the journey was swifter, the worry only intensified in Eowyn's mind as she thought about the rumors of what had happened in Edoras.

As they rode, she thought again about how she had tried to take the Ring from Frodo, and how she had sought redemption through death in battle, charging the Uruk-hai. But she had found neither, despite the comfort from Boromir's words. It was in Frodo's eyes that she needed to see forgiveness, and if she could not, she felt that death alone could redeem her.

When they finally approached the town, and Eowyn saw the Golden Hall on the hill, she thought of the irony of her standing on its steps so many times, watching her brother and cousin depart, or waiting for them to return. Now, she was the one riding back. But as she looked more closely upon the building, she saw no one there to wait.

As they rode through the streets, they saw the same looks of depression and hopelessness they had seen in the village, but on a far larger scale. At the bottom of the steps they dismounted, and walked up to where two guards stood on duty. No surprise registered on their faces at the reappearance of the White Lady after so long an absence, and Eowyn guessed that they were well-informed of all the goings-on in the land.

The men saluted her, but one held out his arm at Boromir. "Halt. Who is this stranger?"

"He is no stranger," said Eowyn hotly. "He is Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. He has been one of Rohan's most stalwart allies, and he has saved my life."

"Then Boromir is welcome here," said the second guard. "But neither he, nor you, shall pass these doors so armed, by order of..." His voice faltered, as if it would pain him to continue speaking.

"Grima Wormtongue," Eowyn finished for him, her eyes starting to flash.

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess." She crossed her slender but muscular arms in front of her.

Boromir whispered to her. "We need not submit."

Eowyn looked around. "As much as I would like to resist, it will not help us now. These men are not loyal to Grima in their hearts, but they fear those who are." Reluctantly, she handed her weapons to the guard in front of her. Boromir gave his sword and shield to the other guard. They then stepped inside the Golden Hall.

Theodred and Eomer were nowhere to be found, and Eowyn confronted a guard in the hallway. "Where are my brother and my cousin?"

A pained expression appeared on the man's face. "Your brother is banished from the kingdom of Rohan."

"What?! But how...Wormtongue...he cannot..." she sputtered.

"It was not I," said a familiar voice from behind her. Eowyn found her fists involuntarily clenching.

"Wormtongue. You slimy bastard," she growled, turning to face him. Sure enough, Grima stood there, accompanied by half a dozen rough-looking men.

Wormtongue held up a piece of paper. "It was the king. His own signature has banished Eomer from Rohan, for his treason in attacking our ally Saruman."

"The only traitor here is you. What have you done to the king, to poison his mind that he would banish his nephew from the kingdom? And what have you done with Theodred? Where is he?" she demanded.

"I have done nothing to him. He fell in battle, brave to the last. Eomer brought Theodred back, before Eomer's treason was revealed. You may say goodbye to the body, if you wish."

"And you had better say goodbye quickly to your own body, worm," growled Boromir, starting to charge forward. Eowyn grabbed him as the thugs drew swords and knives.

"No," she whispered. "Not this way. Not now. Their time will come. Soon." She glared at Wormtongue, then began walking away, never taking her eyes off of him. Boromir, glaring at the worm as well, followed her.

She found King Theoden upon his throne, an empty look in his eyes. There was a faint spark in them, as if it was a brief flash of recognition, before it disappeared. She knelt by his side, but he did not respond to her words. There was only the seemingly never-ending blank expression on his face. Shaking her head, she backed away, looking at her uncle one last time before leaving the room.

lllll

"Theodred." Eowyn sobbed as she stood over the body. "What have they done?" She sat near him, remembering all the memories she had of him, happy and sad. It was he who had supported her in her desire to be a fighter, in contrast to her protective uncle and brother. He had been the one to teach her how to use a sword and shield, how to shoot a bow, how to fight with her fists and feet, how to dodge enemy attacks. She stayed with him for several hours, while Boromir watched over her in turn, never moving.

She spent a sleepless night in her own room, at her house but not home. Boromir slept in the next room, and it was with relief that she greeted him in the morning.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered to him, after a meager breakfast. He was about to respond, when suddenly they heard shouting from outside. Racing to the nearest window, Eowyn saw three horses, and gasped upon seeing who was riding them. Aragorn was upon one, and Legolas and Gimli rode double on another. But on the third was Gandalf! It was him, and yet he was changed, for his robes were now white instead of grey.

"Gandalf?" whispered Boromir. "By what trick has he risen from the dead?"

The surprises were not finished yet. As Eowyn looked more closely at Gandalf, she suddenly recognized the horse he was riding. "Shadowfax," she gasped with wonder.

"Shadowfax?" inquired Boromir.

"Chief of the Mearas, lords of horses. No one has yet tamed him, until Gandalf now, apparently. When I was eleven years old, Eomer dared me to ride him."

"What happened?"

"Well, I got close to him. Closer than I ever thought I would get. I reached my hand out...then he kicked me and ran away. Eomer was laughing at me for weeks." She smiled faintly at the memory, then turned serious again to the situation at hand.

Hurrying towards the throne-room, Eowyn and Boromir entered through the side-door and saw Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas making their way towards the king. The travellers had been disarmed, though Gandalf still had his staff, using it as a walking-stick. The slimy Grima sat next to Theoden, and whispered something into his ear as the visitors approached. The rough-looking men that had confronted Eowyn and Boromir the day before, Grima's hired thugs, stood near them.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened as of late," the wizard called out, pausing a short distance in front of Theoden.

"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" croaked the king in a voice that was not his own.

"A just question, my lord," said the greasy Grima. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear."

"Silence," growled Gandalf. "I did not come through fire and death to waste time with a witless worm." He raised his staff.

Wormtongue's eyes widened. "His staff! I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

Theoden let out a sudden cackle, and when he spoke his voice had changed again. "Rohan is mine!" This time, it was the voice of Saruman.

Gandalf pointed his staff at Theoden. "I will draw you out, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound."

"Get them!" shouted Grima. The thugs moved forward to attack, but were no match for the skills of their opponents. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli took care of their attackers easily, and out of the corner of her eye Eowyn saw Boromir knock out a man with a single punch to the face.

A thug took a swing at her. She did a pair of back handsprings to avoid it, gracefully backflipping even in her long dress with the training of a dancer, and landed elegantly on her feet. He charged forward, but she swept out with her leg, tripping him to the floor. As he began to rise, she greeted his face with her rapidly rising knee. With a spray of blood he was sent back down again, and this time chose to stay there.

As Gandalf's staff glowed and Theoden seemed to become enveloped in a white light, Eowyn went straight for Grima. She didn't try anything fancy. She simply kicked him in the crotch with all her strength, her booted foot sending his testicles back up somewhere into his body. How she had longed to do that, for months and months. Wormtongue collapsed to the floor in the fetal position, his hands clutching his groin. He tried to start getting up, but Eowyn put a stop to that by stomping hard on his face with her boot. "Give me a reason," she hissed, raising her leg again. "Try it again. I'll crush your throat." Terrified, Grima lay still on the floor, whimpering.

Bruised and battered thugs littered the floor. Gandalf finally lowered his staff and stepped back, and Theoden sat up straight. The color seemed to flow back into his face, and Eowyn rushed to his side. He looked at her. "I know your face. Eowyn. You have returned."

She broke into a smile. "No," she whispered. "You have returned."

Theoden looked at the group assembled in front of him. "Dark have been my dreams of late."

"I think your fingers would remember their strength better if they gripped your sword," said Gandalf, handing it to the king. Theoden took it, then, as his eyes focused on Wormtongue, his expression turned dark and angry.

"Please!" begged Grima as two guards threw him down the front stairs of the Golden Hall. Covered in blood and bruises, he sat up at the bottom of the stairs, clearly in great pain. "I've only ever served you, my lord!"

"You are a traitor!" growled Theoden. "All this time, while pretending to serve me, you have been serving Saruman!"

"Let me deal with him," said Eowyn. "After all those nights he has haunted my steps, let me face him in the old ritual of trial by combat." She smirked at the terrified expression that appeared on Wormtongue's ugly face, relishing the thought of using her lethal skills with the sword to get rid of this thorn in her side once and for all.

"No," said Aragorn. He turned to the king. "Enough blood has been spilled on his account."

Theoden looked at her, then at Aragorn, finally nodding while meeting the Ranger's gaze. He then turned to Wormtongue. "Grima, I offer you the chance of trial by courage. Ride into battle at my side, in the front lines. If you survive, and prove yourself brave, you shall be forgiven. If, however, that offer is not to your liking, or you fail to prove your courage, you shall be banished from the kingdom of Rohan forever, never to return under pain of death."

"Please, my king," begged Wormtongue. "My skills lie in the arts of counsel and diplomacy, not battle..."

"Coward!" cried Eowyn, enraged because for so long she had been forced to stay at home when she had wanted to go to war against the orcs. "I knew he wouldn't have the balls to fight!"

"Not surprising, after that kick you gave him, lass," said Gimli. Several chuckles and guffaws arose from the assembled group.

"Enough," said Theoden. "Grima, you are banished from Rohan for eternity. Let him take a horse, if any will bear him. Now get him out of my sight."

After Wormtongue had departed, riding away as fast as the horse would carry him, Theoden turned to Grima's henchmen. "I remember you. Thieves you all were, and while a harsher king would have had you hanged, I offered you the chance to redeem yourselves through labor. It seems that you have not learned your lesson. So to hard labor you will return, if you wish to stay within these borders. If not, you may take your chances with the wild men of Dunland...or Saruman." The latter choice was one that none of the men had the balls to take, and Eowyn found herself smirking as the thugs were set to mucking out the horse-stalls.

The king looked around. "My son. Where is my son?"


	9. The Road to Helm's Deep

Theoden looked up from Theodred's grave as the funeral ceremony was completed, shaking his head. "No parent should have to bury their child. What is left for us?"

Before anyone could respond, a horse crested a hill in the distance, two small children mounted upon it. As everyone turned to look, the children fell off the horse, one after the other.

lllll

Eowyn looked up at the others after providing the children, who were shaken but uninjured, with bowls of warm soup. "They say the Orcs and the Wild-men of Dunland are rampaging through the Westfold, burning and pillaging as they go, slaying anyone not fortunate enough to escape." Her eyes flashed with anger.

"Eomer has hundreds of good men riding northward as we speak. Bring them back. Cast off the influence of Saruman from Rohan. March on Isengard! Draw him away from your women and children," Gandalf urged the king.

Theoden shook his head. "I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not," said Aragorn.

Theoden looked at him sharply. "When last I looked, Theoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan."

"Then what is the king's decision?"

lllll

"Helm's Deep! Theoden ordering the population of Rohan to Helm's Deep instead of attacking the evil at the source!" said Gandalf, shaking his head.

"Helm's Deep has saved our people in the past," said Eowyn weakly, trying to understand her uncle's reasoning, though inside she disagreed with it just as much as the wizard did. A sudden thought struck her. "Oh, um, by the way, Gandalf. I never got the chance to ask you until now. How did you, uh, come back from the dead and all?"

As she and Boromir listened with wide eyes, Gandalf explained how he had battled the Balrog from the darkest depths of Moria to the high peaks of the Misty Mountains, how he had slain the monster, then fallen, only to be reborn as Gandalf the White.

"But now, I must depart," he said, whistling for Shadowfax. "So many generations of men I have walked this earth, and now I have no time." The wizard turned to Aragorn. "Look for me on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east." Aragorn nodded, then, with a final wave to the assembled group, Gandalf mounted the horse and disappeared into the distance.

Then, for the first time, Eowyn and Boromir had the chance to catch up with Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas about what had transpired after they had separated. After telling their part of the tale, Eowyn and Boromir listened as Aragorn told of how he and his companions had pursued the Uruk-Hai for four straight days with no rest, meeting the reborn Gandalf, and what had happened with the hobbits. "Merry and Pippin are safe. Far away, but safe. The forest of Fangorn holds many secrets, not all for evil."

"Then not all was in vain," said Boromir, sighing with relief.

"Yes," said Eowyn. "I am thankful for Merry and Pippin. But Frodo..." Her voice trailed off as she remembered with shame what she had done, and she looked to Boromir, smiling at him gratefully as he took her hand. He nodded at her slowly and she nodded back.

She looked at Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas in turn. "I...I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. Just before we were attacked by the Uruk-hai, when we were all looking for him. I found him alone, and I spoke with him, and the pull...The pull of the Ring became too strong. I fell to temptation and tried to grab it. Frodo put it on and ran, and that was the last I ever saw of him. I wanted to tell you before we separated, but...I was ashamed." She covered her face with her hair.

Aragorn reached out, brushing her long blonde hair aside, and titled Eowyn's face upward. "I suspected something like that."

"But how did you..."

"Though I may look much younger, I am eighty-seven years old, my Lady, while you are but twenty-four, younger than Peregrin Took. I can sense things. But that does not matter now. You fought bravely. You have kept your honor. You cannot let guilt eat away at you like this."

"And Gandalf? I did not have the chance to tell him..."

"I am sure he already knows, and does not hold it against you. You have learned a hard lesson, one that you will not forget, and you are wiser now."

Eowyn looked at him, then at the others. Legolas' expression was unreadable, as would be expected from an elf. Gimli reached his hand up to touch her on the shoulder, letting her know that all was forgiven, and she felt Boromir's hand on her other shoulder. But despite that, and despite Aragorn's words, she knew that the guilt would continue to haunt her until she found true redemption - either by meeting Frodo again and seeing the forgiveness in *his* eyes...or by her honorable death in battle.

lllll

The population of Edoras made their way towards Helm's Deep, slowed by their baggage and the sick and the wounded. There was much to talk about on the long journey, with Aragorn speaking more of the history and blood of Numenor, and Gimli telling of the history of the Dwarves, along with the concept of female Dwarves. When they made camp during the nights, Boromir would speak to her of the history of Gondor, of which she knew some, but his words greatly deepened her knowledge, and she spoke to him of Rohan.

After three days' march, they were finally nearing Helm's Deep, and Eowyn allowed herself to feel the first small bits of relief. Grima could probably guess Theoden's plan, and he had likely ridden straight to Saruman and informed him of it. If only Aragorn hadn't let him go...He had meant well, she knew, but the road to Mordor was paved with good intentions. She had been expecting some sort of attack on the road by Saruman's orcs, but perhaps he had not had time to prepare and send an army. Perhaps they would all reach the fortress safely...

Two Men of Rohan, Hama and Gamling, rode up front as scouts, with Legolas walking close behind them. Eowyn was leading the horse Gimli was riding, being careful not to let the dwarf fall off. During her occasional glances over her shoulder she could see Theoden, Aragorn, and Boromir riding together, some distance behind.

The horses up front began snorting, and Hama stopped, Gamling coming to a halt near him. "Hama? What is it?"

"I'm not sure..."

An orc, mounted on a large, sharp-toothed, foul-looking beast, a Warg of Isengard, suddenly attacked from a nearby rocky overhang. The warg crashed into Hama, its teeth sinking into his neck, and flung the body aside. With a cry, Gamling drew his sword and began fighting the mounted orc, their blades clashing against one another.

Eowyn's hand went to her own sword, but Legolas was already in action. The elf's bow sang, and the warg fell dead with an arrow in its eye. The stunned orc, thrown from its mount, staggered to its feet, only to be met with one of Legolas's knives piercing its throat. He kicked the corpse away. "A scout!"

"What is it?" cried Theoden, alerted by the sounds, urging his horse forward.

"Wargs! We're under attack!" shouted Eowyn. Cries of fear and panic came from the travelers.

"Prepare for battle!" shouted Theoden. "All riders to the head of the column!"

Hoofbeats thundered as the Riders of Rohan began forming up. Gimli, his horse stepping backward, tugged on the reins. "Forward. Charge forward."

Theoden rode over to Eowyn, whose hand was still on her sword. "You must lead the people to Helm's Deep."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "I can fight! I did not come through the hell of Moria and the ambush of the Uruk-Hai to run from orcs riding their pets."

"No!" said Theoden sharply. Then his voice softened. "You must do this...for me."

She nodded reluctantly, knowing that the travelers could not be sent leaderless to make their way to the fortress, but still wishing she could ride with the men into battle. "Just make sure to come back alive," she whispered as he rode off.

"Make for the lower ground! Stay together!" shouted Eowyn. She turned around one last time, seeing Theoden, Aragorn, and Boromir silhouetted against the skyline, swords drawn, as they rode over the crest of a hill and disappeared. She kept her sword at the ready, guarding the rear of the fleeing group, until she judged that they had gone far enough from the heat of the battle for her to gradually make her way to the front of the throng.

lllll

When the familiar stone walls appeared in the distance a few hours later, Eowyn let out a faint sigh of relief, but her heart was still filled with worry. Theoden, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir...As skilled as they all were, anything could happen in battle.

She tried to smile at the old men and women who clasped her hand and gave shouts of joy and thanks upon seeing the fortress, not wanting her true feelings and thoughts to show. She greeted the guards on duty, inquiring about the condition of the fort. As thoughts of the men who had stayed behind to fight the wargs filled her mind, she tried to occupy herself with the task of directing the people in the organization of the stores and supplies, but she could not shake the feeling of dread.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before she finally heard the cries. "Make way! Make way for the king!"

Theoden! He, at least, was still alive. She rushed to the gates, casting her eyes upon her uncle with relief as he led the Riders inside. She frowed as she looked at the group more closely. "So few. So few of you have returned."

"Our people are safe," said Theoden. "We have paid for it with many lives."

Aragorn appeared, and with him Legolas and Gimli. Eowyn looked around, her eyes growing wider. "Boromir. Where is Boromir?"

"My Lady," said the dwarf, looking up into her eyes. "I am sorry. He fell..."

"What?!" she cried, not wanting to believe it. "It cannot be!"

"Alas, it is true," said Aragorn, taking her hand. "He fought bravely, and slew many of the enemy. But he got tangled up with a warg, and when the beast went over a cliff into the river he could not free himself in time."

Eowyn felt her whole body begin to shake. She covered her face and ran from the group, finding a dark corner. She half-sat, half-collapsed down, and brought her knees up close to her chest, her arms huddled around them and her long hair covering her face. Boromir! For him to come all this way...through Moria, narrowly escaping death from the Uruk-hai at the river, through decades of defending Gondor in battle...And now, dead. She remembered seeing him silhouetted against the skyline, the last time she had ever seen him. She had not even had the chance to say goodbye.

If only she had argued more forcefully to ride into battle against the warg-riders, she thought! She could have done something to save him if she had been there. And even if she could not have, she would at least have had a chance for redemption through death in battle...

"My Lady," said the soft voice of an elf. She looked up and saw Legolas, with Gimli standing next to him.

"I know you had grown close to Boromir," said the dwarf's deep voice. "There will be time for mourning later. But right now, your people need you. The Uruk-hai are coming." He and Legolas each held out a hand.

Eowyn nodded, wiping away her tears, and allowed them to help her up. She continued clasping their hands gratefully as they made their way towards the front of the fortress.


End file.
